For the Future of Skyrim
by Heiwako
Summary: Sequel to Darkness Rises When Silence Dies. The Dark Brotherhood is slowly rebuilding while the Civil War wages on.
1. Aventus

The Future of Skyrim, the Future of Tamriel

Sequel to Darkness Rises When Silence Dies

**Loredas 13****Frostfall 202 4E 6:00 PM**

"Cicero, your hair is getting really long."

The Keeper and I were lounging on my bed in the Dawnstar Sanctuary. It has been two month since the murder of Emperor Titus Mede II and we had settled in well to our new home. The bounty from Armaund Motierre was very generous; more than enough to decorate our new home with plenty left over for emergency funds. Nazir was still a little pouty about me refusing to let him outfit a torture room, but overall things were going smoothly.

Cicero had just finished his bath and was dressed in his usual patched jester's motley. The Keeper smelled pleasantly of jasmine. I had been brushing out his long, fine red hair when I realized it now reached about three inches past his shoulders. "If you're not careful, someone might mistake you for a girl."

"Oh, Listener!" Cicero turned towards me and suddenly his mannerisms were that of a woman's. I don't mean that he was effeminate; I mean that he mimicked a woman exactly. I held my breath as Cicero timidly put his gloved hand under his chin and fluttered his long lashed eyes at me coyly. "Would Hecate hate me if I was a girl?" Cicero's normally high pitched voice slid into that of the female alto.

Cicero hopped off the bed and walked around to the other side where I was sitting. The jester even had the walk right. His movements were sultry and he moved his hips very suggestively. I swallowed nervously. With his hair falling forward and obscuring his face, Cicero was very easily passing as a girl. For Nord standards, Cicero was very small and lean in stature, adding to the illusion.

I've always had a weakness for redheads and found female redheads ten times more attractive than males. Lately I've been more attracted to women sexually and my complicated relationship with Cicero only exasperated my reaction.

Cicero placed one gloved hand on my knee and slowly slid it up the length of my thigh. My heart was thudding heavily and the heat in my chest was traveling quickly downward. Cicero climbed onto my lap and straddled me with his legs. "I'm just an innocent girl from a small village. I don't know the ways of the folk from the cities." The tone was shy and innocent.

Gloved fingers trailed up my arm making me want to shiver with pleasure. "Maybe you could help me learn," Cicero whispered in my ear, tickling me with his warm breath. Suddenly, the jester's right hand squeezed my breast twice. "Honk, honk!"

Cicero laughed madly and jumped backwards off my lap. "You fool!" I yelled laughing as I jumped up and ran after him. I had no idea the Fool of Hearts was so good at mimicry.

The Fool tore out of my room with me on his heels. Cicero took a hard turn and ran past Babette's room. The vampire child was exiting with some herbs and was almost run over as the jester tore past. "Hey, be careful!" she said, her tone much too old for her appearance.

As I followed, laughing as loudly as Cicero, we ran past Nazir's room. "Guys, calm down, it's late. You'd think they had been raised in a barn," the Redguard said affectionately to Babette.

The Initiates' bedroom door was open. Our lone recruit, a Khajiit, poked her head out. "Kittens must chase and run," Meena said amused. She shook her head causing her golden ringed braids to jingle softly. Her mottled fur was more like a domestic calico than one of the great cats like most Khajiit. Delvin Mallory, our contact in the Thieves' Guild, had pointed the catkin out to us.

"She's enthusiastic enough," the smooth voiced fence had said, "but unfortunately she's a bit bloodthirsty for us. The lass killed three of her five last jobs."

Cicero rounded into the common area with the large stain glass window that provided a secondary exit from the Sanctuary. He tumbled and cartwheeled to tease me since doing so slowed him down enough for me to think I could catch him but moved him about erratically enough I couldn't get a grasp.

"Get back here!" I laughed swiping and missing. It was good to hear laughter again in the Sanctuary. Things had been tense back in Pine Forest during the struggle for control between the Night Mother and Astrid. Then, after the Purification, not many of us felt like laughing. Cicero had laughed, but he always did and the Keeper had no love lost with the family who had died.

Cicero flipped and somersaulted around the common room. He had pulled out his jester's cap and placed it firmly on his head at some point during our scramble. As always, it didn't fall off no matter how much he jumped about.

When Cicero decided to run up the stairs towards the exit, I followed him. No doubt he would lure me outside and dunk me in the snow, but maybe I would manage to get one over him first. I was about to run past the Night Mother's coffin when I heard her unearthly voice in my mind.

"_Daughter, approach me. I would speak with you,"_ my matron commanded. I immediately stopped playing and walked over to the Night Mother's coffin. I dropped to one knee with my head bowed in reverence.

"Mother?" Cicero asked. He had come back when he saw I was no longer chasing him.

I held up a hand, "Shush, I'm Listening to Mother." Mother's voice continued with the details of our next contract. A Black Sacrament had been heard. It was up to the Children of the Night Mother to answer.

**Tirdas 16 Frostfall 202 4E 11:00 PM**

"And I said, 'That's not a horker. That's my wife!'" Cicero burst into a gale of laughter. Rolff Stone-Fist, the town drunk and brother to Galmar Stone-Fist, joined suit.

It was late in the Candlehearth Inn. Only a few patrons were still awake and fewer were drinking at this hour. Rolff seemed to not be stopping any time soon and eagerly accepted a refill of mead from Cicero.

I was nervous. Of our little family, Cicero was the only one I could use on this mission. Rolff was a known racist; he frequently trolled the Gray Quarters and the docks to sling curses and insult the Dunmers and Argonians. Nazir was taking care of the second half of our objective in Windhelm and it was too likely that Rolff would recognize me since he was the brother of Galmar Stone-Fist, Ulfric's second-in-command.

Cicero was more than capable of adopting a role for a scheme. After the Fool of Hearts' little stunt the other day, I had had Cicero adopt different personas for me. Each one was extremely convincing, especially with a little makeup and the right clothes. Thus posing as a rich merchant who loved to share jokes, mead, and a healthy dislike for the "lesser races" should be very simple. I only had to worry if some random factor would cause Cicero to flip out. One wrong look or too fast of a gesture and the jester might go on a murderous rampage.

If it had to happen, at least it would happen in Windhelm, my least favorite city in Skyrim.

Our contact had been Neetrenaza, the same Argonian I had helped negotiate reasonable wages for the lizardfolk from Torbjorn Shatter-Shield. I hadn't expected the wage increase would be used in such a manner.

"I'll tell you what," I offered, "instead of gold how about you owe us a favor? I might need cargo sent out or in on a boat with no questions."

Neetrenaza hesitated. It was a tempting offer, but risky. On one hand, it would save his kin a thousand septims which could go towards much better living standards and it might be a payment that would never come due. Yet, if I asked to move something dangerous, all of the dock worker Argonians could suffer. I waited patiently for Neetrenaza to decide. I had no personal investment in the matter and could take which ever payment the Argonian chose.

Finally, Neetrenaza nodded. "This is acceptable, land-strider." He had not recognized me under my cowl and mask.

Meena and I were sitting on the other side of the loft of the Candlehearth. We had been discretely watching Cicero ply Rolff with alcohol all night. Cicero had not drank any; instead he would gesture with his mug causing it to spill about or inconspicuously pour it out when Rolff was busy down his current mug. I thought it was interesting that I've never seen the Keeper drink liquor. There have been a few late nights were I would offer to share a bottle of wine and Cicero always demurred.

I was wearing the robes of a priestess of Talos. Windhelm was the only city in all of Skyrim that allowed open worship of the ascended god. No one would harass me and the hood kept my face in shadow. It was a struggle to not sit with my legs draped across the arms of my chair in my typical fashion.

Meena was wearing wizard's robes with similar concealing hood and long sleeves. Technically Khajiit were not allowed in most cities and definitely not in Windhelm, but the catkin could be clever about getting around anything that was supposed to keep them out.

There were few women out even during the daylight hours because of a serial killer known as the Butcher. He had been stalking the women of Windhelm for almost a year now and had recently claimed his fourth known victim. With the majority of Ulfric's army camped at the footstep of Whiterun, the local guards were spread very thin and unable to devote any attention to the serial killer. Instead they encouraged women to stay inside after dark and to only travel in groups.

Overall, this worked in the Brotherhood's favor. It allowed us to move more easily and I didn't have to worry about Ulfric or his inner circle recognizing me. On the other, it made the presence of females a little more memorable and there was always the off chance one of us could be targeted as the next victim.

I was pulled out of my train of thought when I saw Cicero flashing the signal that Rolff was drunk enough for our next phase. Meena nodded and stood up. She walked past the drunk, paused, and dropped her hood so her catlike features were easily visible. "This one is getting more drink. Would you like some more?"

My answer was unnecessary as Rolff turned drunkenly towards our Khajiit. "Hey, your kind ain't welcome here, furball," he slurred.

"This one does not like your attitude, Nord," Meena hissed. The other patrons turned towards the raised voices, curious at the commotion.

"I'll what whatever I damn well please, cat." Rolff managed to stumble to his feet and raised his hands into fists. "In fact, a hundred septims says I can beat your ass."

Meena grinned, displaying her sharp predator teeth. "This one accepts the foul smelling one's challenge." The Khajiit raised her furred hands with claws extended. Rolff's eyes widened in horror as he realized too late that Khajiit were much better equipped at hand-to-hand than men were. Before the Nord could back out, Meena delivered a quick one-two combo that left the drunk unconscious on the ground. Blood seeped onto ground from the claw wounds Meena had left on Rolff's face.

I frowned slightly. It was unnecessary for Meena to have wounded Rolff that way and she knew I didn't want him bloodied for our next step. Delvin had been right about Meena being bloodthirsty.

Cicero jumped to his feet feigning rage. "Damn cat! Ulfric was right about your kind. Get out of here before I call in the guard." The redheaded man stood over the fallen Rolff as if to defend the fallen man, but I noticed Cicero kick the Nord in the back of the head. I shook my head in frustration. If those two screwed this up, I was going to give them both a piece of my mind.

Meena hissed, but left as planned. The other patrons were muttering amongst themselves. I stood up and walked over. "'I'm terribly sorry about that. How about we help your friend get home?" When Cicero and I bent over to pick up Rolff, I mouthed, "Behave," to the Keeper. Cicero merely shrugged, unapologetic as always. Between the two of us, we easily lifted the Nord although his feet dragged behind him. Waving off any assistance from any would be helpers, the Keeper and I dragged Rolff off to his death.

**Middas 17 Frostfall 202 4E 12:00 AM**

It was time.

Nazir had been waiting for us in the nearby residence we had chosen for the murder to take place. "You sure about this?" the Redguard had asked.

I had nodded, but to be honest I wasn't. I had no idea what the old methods of recruiting had been like. My studies with Festus Krex hadn't covered that particular subject. Who knew how much Astrid had modified recruitment to keep her small family safe from discovery and to only include people who would be obedient to her?

"It didn't matter who you killed; only that you did when I told you to," her sultry voice stamped into my mind. For all her faults, Astrid had been a strong leader until her paranoia had given one of the Brotherhood's oldest enemies a chance to destroy us. And they had almost succeeded.

Nazir and Cicero were no help in this matter. Nazir had been recruited by Astrid and Cicero's memories tended to be erratic. He could remember the name and face of every member of his Cheydinhal family, but he would barely recall events from the week before. Babette might be able to help me, since she was over three hundred years old. However, the vampire child had been keeping to herself a lot lately. I knew she felt comfortable in the ancient Dawnstar Sanctuary, but the immortal was still dealing with her complicated emotions of her adopted family dying.

Babette claimed that she did not feel sorrow for her fallen siblings. Instead their murders made her aware of her own vulnerability to being killed. Vampires did not fear much, but fire is the ancient tool of the righteous for killing monsters and Falkreath Sanctuary had burned. Only by luck, Babette had been out that night search for flowers for her alchemy. No doubt Babette had seen many of her associates age and die over the years. I don't know if that is something one can get used to and be considered anything similar to sane, but Babette seemed very well adjusted for an eternal childlike blood drinking immortal. So I let her be.

As Cicero and I dumped Rolff into a chair, Meena came into the house. The Khajiit had done a lap around Windhelm just in case our little display had caused anyone to follow her and cause trouble. "Meena did good, yes?"

"Ooooh, yes! Miss Kitty did very well, very well indeed," Cicero agreed as he shrugged out of his merchant garb. Unmindful of his audience, the fool dropped his pants to change back into his familiar jester's clothes. Nazir grumbled while he secured Rolff with rope. Meena's eyes lingered on Cicero's nakedness a little too long for my taste.

As Cicero straightened from shucking his unwanted costume, I leaned over and gave him a light kiss on the lips. "You did well tonight as well, Keeper." Cicero's flight from Pine Forest had some unforeseen benefits. The Keeper was more comfortable leaving the Night Mother for long periods of time and I was more willing to show little signs of affection.

"Cicero did! Cicero told jokes and stories for the nasty Nord just as the Listener asked," the jester beamed.

"Rolff's ready," Nazir said rolling his eyes. Although the Redguard had accepted Cicero's return without batting an eye, Nazir still maintained his dislike for acrobats, tumblers and the like. Cicero's dancing and singing at a whim seemed to cause Nazir's right eye to tic uncontrollably.

I nodded and left the main room to the small bedroom off the kitchen. Our recruit was curled up on his bed sleeping. I knelt by the small figure and placed my hand on his thin shoulder. Shaking gently, I said, "Wake up, Aventus. It's time."

Large brown eyes fluttered open. For a second, they're wide and searching for danger, but then they focused and Aventus smiled timidly at me. "Am I going to be an assassin?"

"Yes," my heart was thudding in my chest. I was asking such a huge thing of a child. "You just have to prove you can kill someone for me."

"And I'll have a new family?" Aventus' face was so sincere. The boy had not returned to Honorhall. A combination of his fear of the new matron being just like Grelod the Kind and not wanting to leave his family's home had caused Aventus to stay in Windhelm. Using the coins I had left with him, Aventus had been surviving, but just barely. A boy needs friends and a family and Windhelm was not the place to find them. When I nodded, Aventus said, "I want to be a Dark Brotherhood assassin. I want to help people like you helped me."

I took the child's hand and led him into the main room where Rolff was tied up. The drunk was slowly waking. "That is the man you have to kill," I said.

Aventus looked shocked. "I know that man," he stammered. "He's at the Candlehearth a lot."

I knelt by Aventus. "I know. But he's a bad man. Rolff hates anyone who isn't a Nord. He hates Imperials, Redguards, and Khajiit," I gestured to each of my companions in turn. "Rolff especially hates Dunmer and Argonians. He spends a lot of time with his friends throwing garbage at them and cursing them for nothing more than existing."

"Little boy, don't listen to that woman. Run, get help!" Rolff struggled uselessly against his bonds. I hated the cuts and bruises on his face. The sight could only add to Rolff's words and was why I hadn't wanted the man marked.

"Aventus, I won't make you do it if you can't, but you need to know Rolff's crimes," I continued ignoring the Nord. "Rolff has gone past simply taunting what he considers lesser races with his superiority. A couple of weeks ago, Rolff killed an Argonian named Shahvee. She was a kind and gentle soul who saw only the good in life. She smiled when others couldn't because she wanted to be happy more than sad." In the corner of my eye, I saw Cicero twitch at these words. "Shahvee was supposed to marry another Argonian named Neetrenaza. Rolff saw Shahvee in the city one night and killed her because he thought a 'dirty lizard' didn't deserve to be within city limits. Shahvee was supposed to be married the next day."

Rolff continued to strain against his bonds and scream for help. Aventus looked very scared and uncertain. I placed an iron dagger in the boy's hands. "If you do this, it won't be easy for you or him. Rolff will bleed and beg and it will probably take a long time." I looked Aventus directly in the eyes, "And he deserves it."

I stepped away from the boy and waited. I smiled encouragingly. I had told Aventus all I could about the situation. If he had any questions, I would answer them, but I would not force the matter. It was the boy's choice.

Aventus looked at the frothing Rolff then my siblings. Nazir with his arms crossed nodded his own encouragement to the boy. Both Cicero and Meena had large, toothy grins. Sometimes I thought that they got along as well as they did because Meena was as crazy as Cicero. Or Cicero was as mad as a Khajiit. It was one of the two. The fool did speak in third person like the sand folk. Even with their evil grins, my group did look much more civil than Rolff who was cursing incoherently.

Aventus looked back at me. His face was set, "I want to be a Dark Brotherhood assassin. I want to help people," he repeated. The child stepped up to Rolff and started stabbing. At first his strikes were hesitant, but eventually there was a rhythm. Rolff died poorly, just as Neetrenaza had requested.

**Turdas 18 Frostfall 202 4E 9:00 PM**

"We did it! We did it!" Cicero and I danced in a circle, stomping our feet in time. As usual, we danced to music only the Fool of Hearts heard. For a long time I had stumbled and tripped not knowing the song, but now I moved as one with Cicero.

Aventus, his eyes twinkling with amusement, watched the two of us acting like fools. After killing Rolff, the boy had crawled into my lap and cried for almost an hour. I had sent the rest of the Brotherhood to look for rumors and secure our exit.

Most of the news was about the Civil War. Ulfric had been campaigning against Whiterun all summer. Balgruuf had managed to maintain control of his hold. Winter was coming fast and soon Ulfric would have to choose between keeping up his siege and falling back to more secure outposts. There were great risks and rewards on both sides. If Ulfric stayed on the field, he had a better chance of taking Whiterun sooner. If he fell back, he didn't risk his army to the bitter winter as much. Odds were in favor of Ulfric staying in the field. It would show Tamriel the hardiness and determination of the "true sons" of Skyrim.

"They are calling for the Dragonborn," Meena had said looking at me meaningfully. There had been two policies I had established with officially becoming the leader of the Brotherhood. My family would know I was the Dragonborn. I still wanted to hide it from the rest of the world; I felt the image of the savior of reality shouldn't be sullied with that of a murderer for hire. I felt no shame in the life I lived now, but many would not. Second, Cicero was to come with me on recruitments. Newcomers had to accept the Keeper if they were to join us. I would not have a repeat of Falkreath where my Fool was an outcast amongst misfits.

"They can keep looking," I had said simply.

Upon returning to Dawnstar, Nazir had broken out the alcohol. It was time to celebrate! We had successfully carried out our Mother's will and acquired a new brother. When Meena had joined us, we had drunk ourselves sick. Tonight was a little more restrained so far. I had drunk about three glasses of wine and was feeling the effects.

I pressed myself up against Cicero and we switched to the body grinding dance of the Bretons. "I really should cut your hair soon," I said. I loved how it curled slightly and bounced up and down as we moved. Suddenly bold, I whispered, "I've missed you in my bed."

Since coming to Dawnstar, Cicero had been given his own room. Except for that first night after murdering Emperor Titus Mede II, Cicero had not slept beside me like he used to in Falkreath. I had waited the first several weeks, expecting to wake with the Fool of Hearts beside me, but I never did. I wondered if Cicero had truly only shared a room with me before because it was the only solution acceptable for my status or if there was another motive. And why crawl into my bed when he had his own then?

"Hecate is only bold after drinking," Cicero smiled slyly.

"Is that bad?" I pouted.

"No," Cicero laughed, "Cicero won't refuse Hecate. Cicero won't refuse the Listener." Gloved hands circled my waist crushing me against his velvet clothes. "Cicero doesn't want Hecate to be full of regret afterwards."

Everything was falling away. Nazir and Meena drinking. Aventus watching us. All I could see was my target, those expressive amber eyes pulling me into the abyss. Oh gods, I was going to let go like Cicero was always tell me to.

"Good evening, everyone," Babette said. Suddenly I was back and I pulled away from Cicero to approach our oldest little sister. "Did you kill well?"

"Aventus did," I said gesturing to our newest brother. Aventus looked happy to see someone similar to his age. "Brother, this is Babette, she's a…."

"Alchemist!" Babette interrupted. "I'm an alchemist."

I gave the Breton a sharp look. Babette returned a desperate look. I mentally shrugged, "That's right. Babette knows about potions and poisons, so if you need either, I'm sure she'll help if you ask nicely."

"Oh, wow," Aventus smiled. "I thought I would be the only kid here. I'm really glad. The adults were getting kinda boring."

"I know how it is," Babette said smiling shyly in return.

"Do you wanna play?"

"Sure. I can show you some neat stuff about this place," Babette offered. As the "children" ran off to play, I frowned. I would need to be sure to talk to Babette later.

"Nazir, it looks like everyone is pairing up except us," Meena lashed her tail meaningfully. She grinned suggestively at the Redguard.

"No, just no," Nazir replied. He drained his mug, "At least not until I've had more mead."

I laughed and looked to share the joke with Cicero. The Keeper smiled back. I pressed my back against Cicero and he circled his arms around me. We slowly started to sway together as if nothing had interrupted us. "What do you want?" he breathed into my ear.

"To dance with you," I answered.

"As the Listener commands," Cicero responded. I could feel him smile against my hair. Tomorrow, maybe tomorrow. We had all the time in the world.


	2. The morning after

**19 Frostfall 202 4E 9:00 AM**

I awoke feeling like a giant had decided to crack my head open like a walnut with his huge bone club and I could barely move. I rolled over and saw that I had slept alone again. I frowned in confusion. I admitted that my memory was a bit fuzzy, but I distinctly recalled falling into bed with Cicero; holding him close. So, where was the jester?

I pulled my sleeping furs aside and saw I was still wearing my Dark Brotherhood leathers. That would partly explain why I felt so stiff. Sleeping in armor, even light armor, can be tough on the body. I managed to undo what felt like one thousand buckles and shrugged out of the armor. My body sighed in relief from being released from the constricting material. I did some light stretches to work the kinks out, but my body protested at the movement. I rolled my neck and winced at the crick I felt. It was going to be a moving through molasses sort of day.

After putting on a green dress and vaguely running a brush through my long, black hair, I stumbled into the eating area. Meena was sitting at the same place she was at last night at the table with her head on the table's surface. The Khajiit was still wearing her armor too. "Did you go to bed?" I asked. Gods, even my own voice sounded too damn loud.

"No," the catkin said, her tail lashing angrily. Meena looked up, her pupils thin arrow slits. "This one decided it was easier to stay here than to move."

"Good morning, ladies!" Nazir bellowed much too cheerfully. I clasped my hands to my head as I sat down. "Ha, ha, here drink some of this to take the hair off the dog." The Redguard placed mugs full of foul looking dark green frothy stuff before Meena and me.

"Have either of you seen Cicero this morning?" I asked as I quickly gulped the mixture down. Nazir was no alchemist, but he did have a gift with hangover remedies. Immediately, I could feel the effects. My head still hurt, but at least my eyeballs weren't beating in tune with my heartbeat.

"Last I saw either of you was when you decided you wanted Cicero to be your pony and you rode him to your room," Nazir said as he placed plates full of scrambled eggs and toast down. I snickered at the memory. "Were you really that drunk?"

"I remember everything I did if that's what you're actually asking," I replied as I poked at the eggs. The thought of eating them made me gag, so I nibbled on the toast instead. Meena was just batting her plate back and forth between her paws.

"Good morning!" Aventus bound into the eating area looking entirely too chipper and loud. The small boy was wearing an oversized shirt that belonged to Cicero. I would need to take him to get some proper clothes and see about a Dark Brotherhood outfit of some sort. Probably just some red and black shirt and pants combo with the handprint for now. Armor would wait until he was older and not growing.

Nazir gave Aventus his own breakfast which included, in addition to the eggs and toast, some sausage patties and bacon. My stomach rolled at the thought of the grease. Nazir definitely knew what to serve to whom after a night of hard partying. Aventus scarfed down his portion and looked at my barely touched plate. "Are you gonna eat that?" he asked bluntly.

I pushed it over to him, "Please help yourself." Aventus ate with the enthusiasm only children can truly muster for food.

"Where's Babette?" he asked around a mouthful of eggs.

"Swallow your food before talking," I said. "Babette is probably sleeping. She tends to sleep during the day."

"Why? Can I do that if I want?" Aventus asked his eyes wide at the thought.

"Eventually," I said ignoring the first question. "Right now I want you to start training. You're gonna learn how to fight and defend and number of other things. Once you've got the basics, I'll send you on missions with someone else as back up and then you can start making your own schedule. In time, you can decide what contracts you want and how to execute them with your own unique style."

"This is so much better than Honorhall!" Aventus was bouncing in his chair.

"Good morning, good morning!" Cicero chirped as he joined us. I winced at the Keeper's high pitched voice. Normally, I enjoyed Cicero's voice, but today it felt like a dagger was twisting against my brain. Nazir plopped a bowl of oatmeal in front of me as Cicero seated himself to my left. Cicero pounded on the table demanding food from Nazir. "Nazir, feed Cicero!"

I jammed a spoonful of oatmeal in Cicero's mouth to quiet him for a moment. He grimaced at the bland taste. "Were you up all night again?"

"Yes, yes, loyal Cicero didn't sleep. Cicero cleaned after lazy Hecate and Meena fell asleep." Cicero grabbed the sugar container and dumped almost half of it into my oatmeal bowl. He swirled it around with a spoon and took a huge bite. "Much better!"

Oatmeal was the only food Nazir served that was bland and he only made it after a night of celebrating. He knew we would need something to help settle our stomachs. It made me wonder what Nazir's life had been like before joining the Brotherhood. He knew how to prepare food well and was always meticulous about a good presentation. Festus Krex had given him a signed copy of _Uncommon Tastes_ after murdering the Gourmet, which Nazir had treasured. Unfortunately, he had lost the book during the fire. Of all of us, Nazir had lost the most since all of his things had been in common areas. Cicero, Babette and I had been lucky in that our rooms were much further back and took almost no damage.

"What was your life like before?" was a question we didn't ask in the Brotherhood. Sometimes one of us would make an offhand comment and it was okay to express interest, but in general the past was the past. Deciding I would be open about being the Dragonborn had been a big decision for me because it meant reopening that chapter of my life. But I had not liked the person I was becoming by denying that half of myself. I still did not have control of the thu'um and with my temper I always risked an accidental Shout. I had resorted to becoming meek and timid which had allowed Astrid to be more demanding of me without me arguing back. Part of me was the Listener, but part of me was the Dragon too and I was going to need to be able to use both parts to lead this family.

Appropriately enough, Cicero had helped me to see that. He had pushed me constantly to not worry so much what others thought and as the Keeper put it, "Just let go, fall into the Void." Teaching me how to dance and his constant teasing had forced me to open up and to push back. Most important of all, Cicero had taught me how to laugh again.

I had been in despair when I met the Fool on the road near the beginning of the year. I had completed my quest to defeat Alduin with the aid of the Heroes of Old, Gormlaith Golden-Hilt; Hakon One-Eye; and Felldir the Old. I had been to the afterlife of the Nords, Sovngarde, and found it lacking. I had expressed that opinion to Tsun, god of trials against adversity and guardian of the whale bone bridge that lead into Sovngarde, after he had promised that I would have a place in the Nordic afterlife after I died.

"To the Void with that!" I had yelled.

"I have promised that you will return," the huge man had growled, "and I do not forsake my vows regardless of how much I may regret making them. Maybe I will have you return as one of the fools you Imperials seem to favor in your courts so much. Give you a chance to teach us Nords so humor." The sarcasm was not lost on me.

"Better a fool who tells the truth than the fool who believes the lie," I had retorted. That's when Tsun had thrown me out of heaven.

I was very depressed on my trip back home. To have the knowledge, not the belief but the fact, that one day after I died I was going to have to be stuck in Nord heaven was weighing me down. People at least three hand lengths taller than me all drinking foul mead and eating huge legs of meat while bragging about what amazing warriors they were while waiting around for some final battle was not my idea of a good time. And what did I have to look forward to in the meantime? People at least three hand lengths taller than me all drinking foul mead and eating huge legs of meat while bragging about what amazing warriors they were while waiting around for when they died in glorious battle to go to Sovngarde.

When I met Cicero who was desperately trying to kill a broken wagon wheel, it had been like the sun coming out. I was able to help someone else instead of wallowing on my own problems. When we met again in the Pine Forest Sanctuary, it had seemed inconvenient to me at the time, but now it felt serendipitous.

"Hecate?" I was pulled out of my train of thought with Cicero poking my face with my spoon. He had smeared oatmeal all around my mouth. "Listener looked so far away."

"Augh, Cicero! Why would you do that?" I picked up a napkin to wipe my face, but the jester stopped me by placing his hand on mine. Cicero leaned over and licked my face.

"Mmmm, sweet," Cicero declared smacking his lips in satisfaction. He continued to "clean" my face with his tongue, giving special attention around my mouth.

"Are you guys married?" Aventus asked.

"No," I answered a little too quickly. Just Listener and Keeper, whatever that meant in the eyes of the Night Mother.

"So, you're not my new mom and dad?" Aventus asked disappointed.

"Oh, gods, no!"

"I thought you were adopting me," the boy said with a small voice.

"We are, sort of," I said. "You've been adopted into the Brotherhood. I'm your sister, Cicero is your brother, and the Night Mother is your mother."

"It is nice to see the rest of us get mentioned," Meena muttered. She still had her head firmly on the table. I don't think she had lifted it completely up since I came in.

"Cicero, why don't you introduce Aventus properly to Mother?" I suggested, ignoring Meena's comment.

"Yes! Mother should meet her newest son," Cicero said gleefully as he stood up. "She's quite nice you know, even if she is dead." The Keeper grabbed the youngest son's hand and led him up the stairs to meet his new Mother for the first time.

**19 Frostfall 202 4E 5:00 PM**

"Babette, why don't you want Aventus to know that you're a vampire?" The vampire child and I were in my room. Aventus was training with the others. Babette had just risen and I felt this was the best time to grab her before Aventus and she started playing again. I wasn't sure how much of Babette's personality was child and how much was adult. She had bragged several times that looking like a child was helpful to trick her contracts, but there were other times when she had reacted exactly like a child would.

"Listener, I have been with the Brotherhood for over two centuries now," the Breton answered, "and in all that time I have never seen anyone else my apparent age. Most of our family joins in their mid-twenties. I have seen a few extremes like an older teen or an elder, but most people who would be drawn to this lifestyle are passionate and willing to do the unspeakable. That combination of traits is mostly like to be found in young adults.

"I find that I am tired of being alone. I want to be just a girl for a while. Aventus is a good opportunity for me that I may never have again." Babette looked up to me. "That is not too unreasonable is it?"

"Do you plan on turning Aventus? Make him like you?" I asked. Babette nodded hesitantly. She must have feared that I would command that she stop if she asked. I stifled a sigh. I should have seen this coming and dealt with it before bringing Aventus to Sanctuary. "Whatever happened to your sire?" I asked. Most vampires were little more than animals who lived in dens together, little better than wolves. Babette being able to function almost like a normal person was highly unusual.

"We parted ways amicably," Babette reassured me. "I learned a great deal from her. Neither of us found the animalistic lifestyle of other vampires acceptable."

"I don't think I could stop you, if you really put your mind to it," I admitted. Assassins are trained to get past people who are on the lookout for them and want to stop them from completing their mission. Babette smiled pleased. "However, I do have some rules. First, you have to tell Aventus that you're a vampire before you can try to turn him. No vague promises of being a kid forever. Second, I want you to explain all the pros and cons. He needs to be fully informed. Third, you cannot turn him once he's fifteen. If Aventus is going to be an adult, he'll get to grow old like the rest of them."

"You are not afraid he will be too young to choose wisely?" Babette asked.

"I've already had him kill a helpless man and three assassins are training him how to do it again. I think deciding to be immortal can't be too much more complicated."

Babette laughed and threw her arms around me in a tight hug. "Thank you, Listener!" she said, her face muffled against my skirts.

"Don't thank me yet, he might refuse," I said. What was crueler? Never having what you wanted or being within grasp and losing it?

"I find it interesting that you said 'he'll get to grow old like the rest of them,' Listener. Instead of 'like the rest of us,'" Babette observed. She smiled coyly. "Are you keeping secrets?"

"Don't we all, dear sister?" I asked in return.

**10 Morning Star 202 3:15 PM**

"What do you mean I have the soul of a dragon?" I yelled. The wind that was whipping my hair into my face stole my words away, but Paarthurnax, the mentor of the Greybeards and an ancient dragon, still heard them. I could barely make out the huge form perched on a stone ledge because of the heavy snowfall.

"_Dovahkiin _is one who is born with the soul and spirit of a dragon, _dovah_, but has the body of, _joor_, a mortal. We dragons are immortal unless killed. Even then we can be brought back, as you have seen," Paarthurnax explained.

"Are you saying I'm immortal?" I asked stunned. I wished Paarthurnax would come down from his perch. It was dizzying to have to look up so high to talk to someone. Especially when discussing philosophy.

"Your _laas_, lifespan, will be greatly extended," Paarthurnax admitted, "but you still have the body of a mortal. Each dragon soul you devour, _di dovah du_, will continue to extend your life."

"I've already killed over a dozen dragons!" I screamed. Fire laced my thu'um. "Didn't you think I should have been told that the first time we met?"

"_Aam_, why would anyone want to live such a short life as you mortals must suffer?" the dragon sounded sincerely confused.

"It should have been my choice," I replied. "You were supposed to teach me the Way of the Voice and you knew I did that by absorbing the experiences of your brethren. Didn't it ever occur to you that I should know the consequences and not just the rewards?"

"I apologize, _briinah_, sister, but to me it is only reward," Paarthurnax said. "The lives of _muz ahrk fahliil_, men and mer, are like a blink of an eye to me." He rustled his battle torn wings and sighed, a huge gust of wind that pushed me backwards several feet. "I supposed I should have considered that you would have believed differently. _Krosis_, forgive me, my ability to interact well with others has deteriorated over the hundreds of years since I could speak with another freely. I was too excited in being able to speak again. There is so much to tell you and so little time."

"It's okay, Paarthurnax," I grumbled. Part of me knew I was overreacting and that the dragon was right. What was wrong with living a longer life? I had always looked younger than my actual age. At the age of thirty-one, I barely looked any older than I had when I was twenty-three. Wouldn't it be beneficial to be physically sixty and look only thirty? Maybe it was even better than that and I would look thirty-five when I was a hundred or even two hundred.

What actually bothered me was that I had not known. I had been denied the knowledge to choose willingly and I hated that. I hated loss of control; something I had felt time and time again since coming to this wintery land.

"I have told you that dragons live to destroy and dominate?" Paarthurnax asked. He was being careful to not leave me out of anything else. "You have that within you as well."

I had always had a rage within me, lurking and waiting to spring out at any moment. There would be moments when I would want to hurt those around me either by action or word. I had spent a great deal of my life either trying to control it or run away from it. To find out that it was part of my basic nature infuriated me. "I guess that means all the good deeds I try to do mean nothing," I said bitterly.

"What is better: to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?" Paarthurnax responded.

**19 Frostfall 202 4E 7:00 PM**

"How did Aventus do?" I asked Nazir.

We were seated at a small table that Nazir used to keep track of contracts and rumors he had acquired. Although we had the Night Mother back, Nazir still used his contacts to find rumors of people performing the Black Sacrament. Maybe it was to keep good relations, maybe it was out of habit, or maybe it was out of fear the Night Mother would stop providing contracts either by her own choice or my death. I didn't know, but I didn't discourage the practice. Beside the side contracts, it kept us connected to the rest of Skyrim and we needed that information to function.

"Nothing spectacular, I'm afraid to report," Nazir said. "The boy is clever enough, but he's too young to have had any training. We're working with a blank slate, which could be great for us in the long run, but for now it's going to be very frustrating for Aventus."

"Neither Cicero nor Meena got overexcited?" I asked. I was worried that they might forget how young their student was and cut him. I feared Aventus could get scared and leave the Sanctuary and the consequences that could bring.

"They behaved. Well, as much as either of them knows how." Nazir's specialty was defense. He could teach someone how to move quickly and well in armor, but that training for Aventus would not be for a couple of years at the earliest. In the meantime, the Redguard would supervise Cicero's training with daggers and Meena's training with stealth. Neither had taught before, thus Nazir and I agreed that having an experienced observer would only be helpful for both teacher and student.

"How did Aretino react to the Night Mother?" I asked.

"Pretty well actually, which I am sure you already surmised from the lack of screaming from Cicero," Nazir laughed. "The boy said she reminded him of his own mother who he used for his Black Sacrament. Apparently he thanked the Night Mother personally for sending a member of the Dark Brotherhood to help him. Cicero beamed like a proud father."

"At least there's that," I sighed in relief. Part of me wished I could recommend that Cicero start training the boy to be an assistant Keeper since he seemed comfortable with the dead. All assassins must be comfortable with corpses, but there is a huge difference between the freshly killed and the interred. I just feared that Cicero would react poorly to the idea of possibly being replaced. As far as I could tell from my studies with Festus Krex, the roles of the Black Hand were for life and a replacement found only after the position opened up.

"Nazir, I also wanted to speak to you about a promotion of sorts," I said. "I am assigning you as Speaker."

"Listener, I'm flattered," Nazir smiled widely. A flush of pride spread across his dark cheeks. "Thank you!"

"Thank you, Nazir. You've helped keep us together. You're my most stable family member and have done a lot to get this Sanctuary livable. Once we have more members, I would like for you to name Babette as your Silencer. I feel she deserves it as the only other living member of the Falkreath Sanctuary, but the choice is yours." I stood up and Nazir followed suit. I offered my hand and he took it. "Congratulations."

**19 Frostfall 202 4E 9:00 PM**

Nazir and I had spent the last couple of hours going over potential recruits, planning Aventus' training schedule, and all the other little details of running an organization. Food, repairs, whether we wanted better relations with the Thieves' Guild, the list went on and on. Normally I would have worked longer, but I was still stiff and sore from sleeping poorly the night before and wanted to call an early night.

I stopped by Cicero's room and looked in. The Fool of Hearts was sitting in the middle of his bed and doodling on a sketch pad while humming. The tone was a bit high pitched. "No, no, no, that's not right," Cicero scolded. He tried again with a lower tone, "Ah, yes, yes, much better."

"Working on a new song?" I asked entering. Cicero nodded. I looked over Cicero's shoulder at his drawing pad. "Is that Solitude?"

"Mmm," Cicero mumbled around nibbling on his quill as he concentrated on his sketch. I saw at the bottom of the page were musical notes for the tune Cicero was muttering as he worked. Except for tending the Night Mother, I rarely saw Cicero work on one project at a time.

"You never finished Solitude for my mural," I teased and partly hopeful this was a good sign that Cicero would offer to adorn my current chambers like my old ones in Falkreath. I had loved the vibrantly colored skyline of Skyrim within my cavern room.

"It would be impractical to do so now," Cicero responded coyly, "since Pine Forest is so far away. But if the Listener were to command, then loyal Cicero would gather his paints and leave immediately."

"Fool," I said affectionately as I curled up behind him. I wrapped my arms and legs around Cicero and pulled him into a hug. Cicero leaned back into it and rested his head on my shoulder, smiling as always.

"How can Cicero serve the Listener?" he asked.

"I just want to spend some time with you," I said. "It feels like I haven't done much of that lately." The only time we had spent alone since coming to Dawnstar had been about a week ago when I had been brushing Cicero's hair and that had been cut short by the Night Mother's summons.

"The Listener has been busy," Cicero agreed. "So has Cicero." Upon his return to the Brotherhood, Cicero had spent most of his time fussing about the smoke damage the Night Mother's coffin had taken from the fire as well as the dents and mud from the fall from the sanctum into the waterfall below.

"Cicero, I…" I trailed off. How could I ask him to share my bed and not sound like I was asking for more than I wanted? I missed his warmth beside me. I missed talking about nothing as we fell asleep. I missed his arms wrapping around me as I fell asleep.

"Listener looks tense," Cicero said picking up on my hesitation. "Turn around." I followed his instructions as Cicero pulled off his gloves.

"I slept in my armor last night," I admitted. Soft fingers prodded my neck easing the ache away. I sighed in relief.

"Poor Listener," Cicero crooned. "Cicero has neglected Hecate. Tsk, tsk. The Listener needs Keeping too." I could feel the back of my dress parting as Cicero loosened it.

"What are you…?" I started to protest.

"Shush, Cicero is taking care of the Listener as he should." Persistent hands pushed me forward until I was lying on my stomach. Expert fingers ran down my back finding knots and kinks and assassinating them.

I found myself falling asleep. Normally I stayed up much later, but it had been a long day and what Cicero was doing was very relaxing. The last thing I remembered was Cicero asking, "Hecate?" and when I didn't respond he crawled into his bed and wrapped his arms around me.


	3. New Life Day

**Tirdas 1 Morning Star 203 4E 8:00 AM**

"Psst, Listener. Wake up. Diana, Diana, Diana, it is New Life Day."

My eyes fluttered open from a deep sleep to find the Fool of Hearts perched above me with a huge goofy grin. In his gloved hands was a bouquet of white winter lilies. Snowberries decorated the petals looking like blood drops on silk which is probably the exact effect Cicero had been going for. The flowers were fresh; there was still frost on the petals. Cicero was covered with a light layer of snow. Huge, fluffy snowflakes clung to the velvet of his jacket quickly melting in the warm room.

"Cicero," I groaned as I sat up, "we promised we wouldn't buy anything for each other."

"Cicero kept his promise, he did!" the jester protested with wide innocent eyes. "Cicero didn't buy these; Cicero picked them with his own hands." The flowers were thrust into my hands. I took them and inhaled their scent, frosty but pleasant.

"I didn't get you anything," I said blushing from embarrassment. It felt awkward to receive a gift when I hadn't done the same in return.

"The Listener has already given Cicero everything he could want," Cicero engulfed me in a hug pushing me back onto the bed. I barely managed to move the flowers out of the way before they were crushed under Cicero's weight. I felt both cold from the snow on his clothes and warm from his natural body heat; it was an interesting combination. "The Listener is the Listener after Cicero waited and searched so very, very long. The Listener delivers sweet Mother's words. The Listener gave Cicero a home, a Sanctuary! The Listener spared poor, loyal Cicero's life. What more could humble Cicero wish for than to serve the Listener in every way?" Amber eyes bore into my deep blue eyes.

Cicero leaned forward to kiss me. It started as his usual butterfly kiss but quickly deepened into a full passionate kiss. I was surprised; this was the most aggressive the Keeper had been since I had told him I wouldn't sleep with him. I responded positively, knowing I was giving mixed signals but unable to stop myself. The memory of the last time Cicero was atop of me kissing me while I wore only sleepwear rose to the surface. There would be no storm to interrupt us.

My hand released the bouquet and it fell loudly to the floor. Cicero jerked at the sound and sat up looking about warily. He saw the flowers and quickly picked them up. I thought I heard Cicero mutter, "Foolish, foolish Cicero," as he was turned away from me. The Keeper dusted the flowers carefully and gave them back to me. As Cicero thrust the flowers in my hands, with his face turned away, he said, "Happy Life Day." Then the jester jumped off the bed and scurried out of my room.

I sighed in frustration. How many times was this going to happen?

* * *

><p><strong>Tirdas 1 Morning Star 203 4E 8:30 AM<strong>

Screams of joy could be heard from the public room. I had dressed and placed the bouquet of flowers in a vase on my end table before joining the others. Aventus was scurrying amongst the gaily wrapped gifts, squealing happily as he hefted each one. Babette was trying to show the same level of enthusiasm as would be expected from a ten-year-old girl, but the vampire had celebrated the new year too many times to enjoy it for herself. Instead, she seemed to vicariously enjoy it for Aventus.

New Life Festival, the first holiday of the year, was celebrated through all of Tamriel. It was a time that could be used for meditation and reflection, to plan how you were going to spend your life in the upcoming year. Gifts were given amongst friends and family members. Traditionally, the Emperor also declared his annual increase in taxes during this time, a practice the common folk begrudged. To offset the bad news, priests performed blessings at a reduced rate and taverns gave away free ale all day long.

This year commoners would celebrate harder than ever since there would be no new taxes. The succession of heir was tied up in political red tape; no doubt Motierre's handiwork. The lack of clear leadership had caused some of Cyrodiil's military to fall back to the homeland for defense rather than pursue crushing the Stormcloak Rebellion.

Aventus' training had progressed well in the last two months. I had feared the boy would be inclined towards being a spell caster which was not problematic within itself. Gabriella and Festus Krex's arcane powers had been invaluable, but we had no teachers. Once Life Day was concluded, I planned on either Nazir or myself going to Winterhold to scout for recruits. We needed more than physically trained assassins.

Thankfully, Aventus favored the mace. It wasn't a sword or dagger, but the general principles were the same and training could continue without looking for a mentor. Many days included Meena and Aventus skulking around the Sanctuary trying to not be detected by Nazir, who if he caught them would assign chores that had to be completed as punishment. Often they would try to steal a previously designated token off the Redguard that would give them immunity from chores for the day.

Originally, Cicero was supposed to be included in the pickpocket training as a victim, but the Keeper got too wound up about the fourth Tenet, "Do not steal from a Brother or Sister." The first day Meena had playfully stolen Cicero's cap had resulted in the Khajiit running through the Sanctuary screaming in terror, "IT'S JUST PRACTICE, DAMMIT!" with Cicero hot on her heels with his ebony blade out.

Nazir handed me a cup of hot chocolate, an import from the rainforests of the Black Marshes. I nodded my thanks and sank into a chair. I carefully balanced the cup as I threw my legs over the arms of the chair.

"Can we open our gifts? Can we, can we?" Aventus bounced up and down like an overexcited puppy. Babette mimicked the boy's actions with a small smile on her face.

The two children had been inseparable since Aventus' arrival to Sanctuary. I was glad they were getting along so well and that Babette had a friend of her own. I had wondered if Babette would tire quickly of Aventus' youthful nature, but so far she seemed to find it quaint like a rare flower that bloomed for only a short time. It was doomed to fade, but wonderful to behold while it lasted.

"We should wait for Meena," I said. The Khajiit had been sent out on a contract to Morthal about a week ago. Normally I would be concerned if one of my siblings had not reported back by now since Morthal was only about a day away if there was nothing else included on their agenda. However, Meena often gave in to her feline nature and would be distracted by something that had caught her attention.

Aventus and Babette started to whine, "Oh, Listener, please!" Cicero wandering in from the kitchen with a plate of holiday sweets joined in. I noticed Aventus' eyes flicker to the treats. It was obvious that he wanted some but would have to give up his campaign for gifts to get them.

"Fine, you vultures," I said laughing. "Enjoy!"

The next hour or so was a flurry of wrapping paper in the air as people tore into their gifts. Babette had made me a bottle of perfume. Nazir received a new supply of dried spices. I gave Aventus his own Dark Brotherhood outfit, complete with black handprint and cowl. The boy immediately ran to his room to change into the new clothes.

Cicero received several new daggers and in return had bought Skyforge weapons for his siblings. "Skyforge steel, sharp, sharp for easy stabbing," the Keeper had explained to a wide eyed Aventus while demonstrating with the dagger he had purchased for the boy on a practice dummy.

The others had collaborated and bought a Daedric bow for me to replace the one I had lost during the Purification of Falkfreath Sanctuary. I marveled at the feel of the almost living material in my hands. Daedric weapons are forged with ebony metal and cooled in the blood of the dremora demons. I had no idea where they could have purchased such a rare weapon, but vowed I would treasure it.

"You really should name it," Babette suggested. Aventus was passed out next on top a pile of discarded wrapping next to the vampire child. In one hand, he held a wooden ship Nazir had given him while the other hand held the Skyforge dagger from Cicero. Babette affectionately smoothed the boy's wild hair.

"Styx," I said after a moment of thought.

"After the ancient river of the dead from the old Cyrodiil beliefs?" Babette said. "Very nice. You seem to have a very thorough knowledge of old ways, Listener."

"Mythology and origin stories have always fascinated me," I admitted. One of the first things I had done upon joining the Brotherhood was to get Festus Krex and Babette to teach me of the Old Ways. I knew that Astrid had abandoned them, which made them all the more interesting to me. I was not a historian; studies of wars and treaties didn't interest me. It was the stories of gods and daedra that intrigued me.

Our conversation was cut short when Meena burst into Sanctuary. I started to greet the Khajiit and tease her about missing the gift opening but I saw the look in her wide, green eyes. The catfolk was agitated about something. "Whiterun has fallen to Ulfric Stormcloak!"

"What!" I yelled jumping to my feet. Thu'um rippled in the air from my own surprise. Aventus awoke from my outburst.

"Meena would have been back sooner from her kill, but this one thought she would look for rumors while in Morthal," the Khajiit explained as she dropped by the fire pit to warm her chilled body. "Tavern was full of talk of Ulfric winning battle and moving into Dragonsreach. Meena thought it best to confirm stories and went to Whiterun and see what she could."

"How in the hell did Ulfric win a winter campaign?" I asked.

"Um, Meena was getting to that part," the Khajiit fidgeted. "Maybe Hecate would wish to sit down first."

"Out with it," I was certain I wasn't going to like what Meena had to say. The Khajiit was fearless, why would she worry about my reaction?

"They say…they say the Dragonborn has decided to place her blade with Ulfric Stormcloak's."

The others stared at me waiting for my reaction. I gripped the arms of my chair until my knuckles turned white. "Cicero doesn't like the tic in Hecate's eye," the jester said with a nervous chuckle.

"Neither does Meena. This one will be excusing herself," Meena ran to her room. She grabbed Babette and Aventus as she fled. Nazir quietly retreated to his study.

"I'M GOING TO KILL SOMEONE!" I Shouted. The force of my voice caused all of the wrapping paper to fling into the air like a sudden snow storm until they all burst into flames.

* * *

><p><strong>Tirdas 1 Morning Star 203 4E 3:00 PM<strong>

"Oh, quit scowling," Nazir scolded. "We'll never get any information from the locals with you practically growling like that."

"Enjoy the free ale," Meena recommended as she fit word to action.

All of the adults, meaning Nazir, Meena, Cicero, and I, all wearing civilian clothes had gone down to Dawnstar's Windpeak Inn to follow up on Meena's information. There was no doubt that Ulfric had taken Whiterun, I needed to know why people were willing to believe that the Dragonborn had sided with Ulfric.

Dawnstar was in high spirits. As a hold allied with the Stormcloak Rebellion, the securing of Whiterun was a huge victory for the Pale. Requests for "The Age of Oppression_," _the propaganda song for the Stormcloaks, were asked over and over. The local bard seemed to not mind the monotony and enjoyed the generous tips and ever flowing mugs of Black-Briar mead. I had ground my teeth so much that my jaw ached.

I had barely spoken since Meena's announcement. The others knew me well enough by now to realize I wasn't just seething. I had to refrain from accidentally invoking the thu'um which meant imposed silence on my behalf. My display with the wrapping paper earlier reminded me how out of control my own voice could be. It would have been logical for me to remain in Sanctuary while the others scouted, but I wanted…no, I needed to be involved in the process.

Someone had stolen my reputation and by that extent had stolen my identity. I had worked too damn hard to make the Dragonborn identity to be one that would be remembered as only a hero of the ages. I had sullied it with neither my past in Cyrodiil nor my present as the leader of assassins. I was going to be damned before I let someone steal it for a cause I did not believe in.

That damned Ulfric had to know whoever was claiming to be the Dragonborn was a fake. He knew me by both name and face. The arrogant bastard had even tried to personally offer for me to join his cause. After I had refused, he had embarrassed me in front of his entire court, showing that my Shout didn't affect him while his Shout had easily tossed me out of the Palace of Kings like an unwanted pup. The fact that I had not used a proper Shout, but only the unfortunate thu'um from my anger was lost on the general public.

The bard, a young blonde woman in her early twenties with a very low neckline, was taking a break from singing. As she approached the bar, Nazir stood up and joined her. I could make out enough of their conversation to tell that Nazir had invited her to join our table. When the Redguard returned, the girl had joined him.

"Everyone, this is Karita," Nazir introduced the girl who was smiling winningly. "She agreed to join us during her break." The Redguard pulled out a chair and gestured for the girl to sit. She giggled at his chivalry. I managed to repress a groan of disgust.

"So, what can you tell us about the latest news about the war?" Nazir said as he placed a mug of Black-Briar Mead in front of Karita. Although ale was free today, it was inexpensive and not very alcoholic. Black-Briar Mead was high quality alcohol and rather pricy. At least as far as mead went. I preferred Cyrodiilic wine, a commodity that was getting rarer and rarer as the war progressed.

"I'm sure you've heard that Jarl Ulfric has taken Whiterun. And in the middle of winter too! He has garrisoned his men within Dragonsreach where they will help rebuild until spring. Then they will turn their eyes towards Falkreath and fight to liberate their kin there." Karita's eyes shone with admiration. She was apparently oblivious she was talking to a group of people who Ulfric's policies would treat as second-class citizens at best.

"What about Jarl Balgruuf the Greater?" I asked. Gods, what if they put my old jarl to the sword? It wasn't impossible. Had Ulfric felt it was necessary to make Balgruuf into a symbol as he had done with Highking Torygg?

"Oh, Jarl Balgruuf was exiled to the Blue Palace with the rest of his court. Vignar Grey-Mane has been named jarl in his place, although it is a bit moot since Jarl Ulfric has stationed himself in Whiterun for the rest of the season."

"And the rumor of the Dragonborn joining Ulfric?" Meena asked glancing at me judging my mood. "What of that?"

"It was amazing! Or at least that's what I heard." Karita's eyes sparkled at the image in her head. "The hero of legend, the one who kills dragons and steals their power, the lone woman who killed the evil dragon Alduin, the Dragonborn rode into the battlefield atop her mount."

"How do you know it was the real Dragonborn?" I asked my voice barely more than a growl.

Karita frowned at my tone. Nazir laughed trying to bring the mood back to a lighter tone. "Don't mind my friend. She's a mean drunk."

"Ah, I see," Karita moved her chair closer to Nazir. I could tell she was registering that I was an Imperial and thus one of the "enemy". I didn't help matters with my half-lidded eye glare.

"Everyone knows she was the Dragonborn. After all, who else owns a set of dragon scale armor?"

"Fuck me!" I jumped to my feet.

"Take a walk!" Nazir shouted before I could flip the table over.

"You cannot order me around!" I retorted. Cicero and Meena were both by my side, ready to restrain me at the slightest provocation.

"Maybe not, but I am your advisor. And I strongly advise that you take a walk right now!" Nazir pointed to the exit. I looked around and noticed the patrons were all staring at us because of my outburst.

"Very well," I bowed ironically and left.

"Go with her, Cicero," Nazir said. I cringed. How bad did Nazir think I was reacting if he was sending the madman to watch over me?

Once I was outside I drew in a deep breath enjoying how the cold air felt in my lungs. When I released my breath laced with fire thu'um, it steamed more than it should have. I didn't want to admit it, but Nazir had made the right call to send me outside.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Cicero's concerned face. A nervous smile was on his face, but amber eyes flickered about trying to figure out what he could kill to please me. "What's wrong?" the Keeper asked.

"It's my fault," I said as I started walking away from Windpeak Inn. "That's my armor they are using to impersonate me." I was grateful I had squirreled the rest of my dragon bones and scales away in hidden caches throughout Skyrim. Even Lydia didn't know where I had hidden them. There would not be multiple fakes running around.

"Cicero doesn't understand." Cicero took my hands and held me into a courtly dance stance. Without another word, he led me into a dance in the snow covered field. Our steps trailed behind us like a teaching guide. I felt my anger fall away as I concentrated on following Cicero's lead.

"The first day we met, when you were stranded on the side of the road," I sighed and leaned against Cicero's shoulder, "I had been wearing my dragon scale armor."

"Diana wasn't wearing armor when we met," Cicero's brow furrowed in confusion.

"I had discarded it before then," I said mad at myself for being so careless. I had even thought to myself of how valuable the material was as I threw in on the ground in a moment of rebellion. It would have taken less than a minute to have piled the armor onto my mare and it would have prevented this.

"Cicero remembers that day well. Cicero was naughty that day too," Cicero smiled wickedly at me.

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Cicero never indulges when he is on duty. No drinking, no women. Cicero must always be ready for Mother if she needs him." The Imperial laughed. "When Cicero saw pretty Diana come down the stairs with her sleepy, kind eyes, Cicero thought, 'What is one little moment of weakness?' Cicero was leaving his home in Dawnstar and going to his new home in Falkreath. One night of indiscretion and Mother none the wiser. It didn't turn out so well, did it?" Cicero cocked his head with a playful smile.

I was speechless. Cicero never explained his actions and this was the most straightforward I had ever seen him. It felt weird to realize I had known this crazy jester for almost a year.

"What about later? With the fallen tub?" I asked after a few minutes of dancing. I smiled at the memory of Cicero 'proving' that he was a man and not a child by flashing me and my startled reaction causing him to fall on top of me. "Just tying up loose ends?"

"Oh, no! Cicero was attending to his duty," the jester laughed.

"What?" I stopped dancing and stepped back.

"Cicero doesn't like the tic in Hecate's eye," Cicero said echoing his comment from earlier.

"What do you mean your duty?" I asked.

"To serve the Listener is to serve the Night Mother," Cicero explained. "Whatever needs the Listener has, Cicero will fulfill."

"You only wanted to sleep with me because it's your job?" I asked. Cicero nodded, confused by my reaction. **"CICERO YOU FOOL!"**

"Augh!" the Keeper screamed as my thu'um sent him flying into a snow pile. I didn't bother to see if he got up okay as I stomped back to Sanctuary.


	4. Just let me take care of you

**Tirdas 1 Morning Star 203 4E 10:00 PM**

"What was he even thinking?" I complained. Babette and I were patching up various family members' clothes and armor in the main room. For some strange reason, assassins' clothes tended to get lots of tears and bloodstains in them. Normally I wouldn't be doing chores on a holiday, but this was no typical day and I needed to do something with my hands.

After my outburst with Cicero, I had come back to Sanctuary and barricaded myself in my room. Then I had crawled into my bed and buried myself in my sleeping furs. I've done this ever since I was a little girl; whenever I get angry I would seclude myself until I calmed down. I always think that I'm going to shut myself away for a few hours, but only minutes after wrapping my blanket around me I would be restless and want to go back out again. I would force myself to stay in the darkness until I calmed down. It's very stupid and childish, but it always helped settle me.

My thoughts were racing between the news of the fake Dragonborn and Cicero's declaration. I didn't want to think about either and squeezed my eyes shut. "Just go to sleep," I muttered to myself, "Just don't think and go to sleep."

When I woke up, it was evening. Aventus had spent the day alone; none of the others had come back yet and Babette had slept. I felt terrible that the boy had to spend the holiday by himself. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow," I promised as I tucked him into bed.

"It's okay. I understand adult stuff was going on. It happens. I remember sometimes my mom had to do adult stuff with strange men," Aventus said. He yawned unabashed with his mouth open wide. "Can we go sledding tomorrow?"

"Sure," I said with a small smile. Although small, Aventus wouldn't be a boy much longer with all the hardships life had thrown at him time and time again. Maybe things would work out for Babette and him.

Nazir and Meena had returned shortly afterward, but there was still no sign of Cicero. I thought about looking for the Fool, but felt it wouldn't be a good idea until I decided what I was going to do with him. Once I had calmed down, part of me rationalized that Cicero's attitude wasn't undesirable. I didn't have to worry about any awkward romantic desires from the Keeper. Anything between us would be purely business. Yet, it still didn't settle well with me.

I didn't want my funny, strange, adoring amber eyed Fool to only see the Listener.

After Babette rose for the evening, I told Meena and her about my conversation with Cicero. It was strange to have girl talk with a cat and child, but they were good listeners. At least Babette was. "What is wrong with Meena?" I asked looking at the Khajiit.

The calico was staring into space with her mouth slightly open and chittering. Her pupils were huge black orbs; they were so large I could barely make out her green irises. Meena's tail twitched uncontrollably.

"Oh, Nazir gave her catnip for New Life," Babette said nonchalantly. Khajiit shared more physical traits with felines than the races of men and mer. For example, Skooma, refined moon sugar, is a highly addictive drug for most races, but Khajiit need it as part of their daily diet or they get sick. Babette had made a large quantity of Skooma for Meena for New Life. I could only guess Nazir had expanded on the idea and had given the catkin a spice-like gift.

"Shush! Do you hear that?" Meena jumped to her feet and ran to the nearest wall. She started to lick it, "By Sheggorath, it tastes like strawberries!" Sheggorath was the Khajiit name for Sheogorath, the Mad God. He was a highly revered god to the Khajiit which might account for why they are typically regarded as a bit off.

I couldn't help but laugh at Meena's bizarre behavior. I started to think of telling Cicero, but squashed the thought. I sighed as I turned back to my mending of my leather armor.

"It is not that bad," Babette said bringing me back to our previous topic. "I think he was sweet actually."

"For following his duty?" I asked bitterly.

Babette laughed with amusement no child could copy. "Sister, you are not the first to lament her love life to me." I started to protest to the phrase 'love life', but Babette held up her hand for me to not interrupt. "I have heard many stories over the years, some sad and many exaggerated. I can say with some pride that as outside opinion, I have learned to pick up on little details. You have definitely missed the most important part of what Cicero was trying to tell you."

"Which was?"

"That he had put aside his duty for one night for you when you were in Breezehome," Babette smiled and winked knowingly.

"Cicero admitted that it was a one night stand," I replied. How much easier for both of us if that had just been the case instead of whatever strange dance the two of us had ended up in.

"Exactly!" Babette rolled her eyes at my blank expression. "Cicero has said he has taken care of the Night Mother for over a decade. He told you as Keeper he feels that he is always on duty and will not indulge in vice. No wine, no women, nothing. And just for one night, before you became Listener mind you, he thought he would lay with a woman because she had 'kind eyes'. How much more of a compliment do you want?"

"Oh," I said in a small voice. "I've been unfair, haven't I?"

"You are a little stressed right now with this false Dragonborn business," Babette conceded, "but you really must not let it get to you. The past is the past. Let Ulfric use the name or kill the pretender, either way make a decision and be done with it."

"_Daughter,"_ the Night Mother's voice filled my mind. I looked up to where the large black coffin resided on the loft above. I had not even considered that the Lady could hear our conversation and worried what she thought of her favorite son's indiscretion. A long pause followed causing me to wonder if I had somehow imagined Mother's voice. _"Cicero is in your room."_

The Night Mother rarely contacted me unless she was giving me a contract or praising us for a kill well done. What could have drawn her attention enough to talk to me?

"Excuse me," I said as I stood. Babette looked at me quizzically, but did not say anything. She had seen me look at the Night Mother's coffin and was wise enough to realize I had heard something unspoken.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I entered my sleeping chambers. Had Cicero decided he wanted revenge for my rejection of him earlier? Would he be naked on my bed?

I gasped in wonder when I saw that my room was festooned with many bouquets of white winter lilies. Almost every surface wad covered with flowers. Red snowberries adorned each one like blood splatters of a murder scene.

How had Cicero gotten into my room without me seeing? I had been working in front of the secret entrance glass paned window in the main room and the normal entrance did not lead directly here. Was there another passageway I didn't know about?

Cicero straightened from arranging a setting on my bed. At first I thought he was flushing from embarrassment, but then I saw that the Keeper's hands were also an angry red color. Cicero must have been outside all day gathering flowers with no protection from the bitter winter cold.

Cicero started to stumble to me, but his legs gave out under him. I ran to him and held him. The jester's eyes were glassy. I had expected Cicero to feel hot; he always felt hot. But his body felt cool to the touch, much like the Night Mother.

"Listener," Cicero mumbled with his head against my shoulder, "I figured out what I did wrong. I wasn't supposed to kiss you like I did. I disobeyed an order."

"Fool!" I said. "Only you would have come to that conclusion." I shook him. "Don't fall asleep. Babette!"

"Tired," Cicero muttered. His forehead glistened with sweat. "Listener is always telling Cicero he needs to sleep more."

"Babette, I need you!" I yelled again. Where was that girl? I started to tear Cicero's frozen clothes off his body. One of the first things I learned coming to Skyrim was how to deal with frostbite. He needed warmth and the frozen cloth was only stealing it away. I pulled open my own clothes and pressed my body against his. I hissed from the cold against my bare skin.

"Oh, _now _the Listener wishes to be naked with Cicero, ha ha ha," Cicero laughed.

Babette came running in with her healer's kit. It had been less than a minute, but it felt forever. "Put him in the bed," she commanded. "Use the furs to help warm him."

"I don't know if I can pull him up by myself," I said as I pulled the semi-conscious Keeper to my bed.

"You're going to have to," Babette said as she rooted through her bag for the potion she wanted. "I'm not exactly built for manual labor, Meena is still out of it, and Nazir's room is too far away. We need Cicero off the cold floor."

"Get up!" I said as I pulled on Cicero with my hands under his armpits. Following the command in my voice, the Keeper managed to get his feet underneath him enough to push himself mostly onto the bed. I dragged Cicero's boots off as Babette scrambled across the bed with a vial.

"Drink!" she said as she tipped the liquid down Cicero's throat.

"Augh, gross," Cicero complained as he flailed weakly. I dodged as Cicero almost kicked me in the head with his movement.

"I'll see if I can bring Meena down enough to help," Babette said as she climbed off the bed. "Meanwhile keep up with what you're doing. Once he's stripped, climb into the bed to add your body heat. Good job!" With that last bit of encouragement, the vampire child ran out of the room.

After I managed to undress an unhelpful Cicero, I shucked my own clothes and climbed in with him as instructed. Cicero kept muttering to himself, all I could make out was, "Oooh, Listener," before he burrowed his head between my breasts. His body was still cold, but his face was burning up.

I wrapped my arms around him. "You idiot," I grumbled over and over. "Idiot, idiot, stupid idiot."

Meena wobbled into the room, her eyes still unfocused. "Little one said this one was needed," her voice slurred.

"Climb in on the other side of Cicero," I ordered.

Meena followed my command, but not before she managed to hit me in the face with her swishing tail a couple of times. As the Khajiit settled down, she looked at me in the eyes and said with all seriousness, "Don't worry, we won't let the mudcrabs win victory."

"I really hope this is not prophetic of how the rest of the year is going to be," I sighed.

Babette returned shortly with warmed towels. "Gradual heat is the best we can do for the frostbite. I would be surprised if Cicero does not have pneumonia. I will know for certain tomorrow. If that is the case, we may not be able to move him for a few days." Babette glanced around my room and took in all the flowers. "Well, well, I must say the Keeper knows how to impress. You think he may give Aventus a few tips? Have to train them while they are young, you know."

"Har, har," I replied. Cicero was mumbling incoherently as I stuffed the towels under the sleeping furs. "What about keeping him awake?"

"Rest is better right now," Babette said. She pulled up the blankets at the foot of the bed and checked Cicero's feet. "Toes look fine. Cicero probably took cold in his chest rather than his feet or hands; he does wear warm boots and gloves. He is plenty warm with the furs, towels, Meena, and you. I can check on the lot of you through the night. Try to not have _too_ much fun," Babette smirked as she left.

"Not likely," I said looking at Meena who was rubbing her chin happily against Cicero's face. I could hear her purring loudly. Cicero was giggling in response. "By Mara, I hope not at least."

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 14 Morning Star 203 4E 3:00 PM<strong>

Cicero did have pneumonia.

Cicero did have to stay in my room.

He was the worst patient ever.

The first three days weren't too bad. Cicero slept pretty much the whole time. When I had first met the jester, I thought he was three or four years older than me putting him around thirty-five. But when Cicero slept, he always had a worried look on his face that I never saw when he was awake and suddenly my Keeper looked ten years older. I felt like time had been stolen away that I would never get back.

Cicero talked in his sleep; he cried to people I didn't recognize. "Garnag, where did you go, brother?" "Pontius killed by a common bandit; how tragic!" "Rasha, false, fake, liar!" "Alisanne Dupre, oh, blessed daughter." "Andronica, poor sister, poor, poor sister." There were many more names, but I couldn't keep track of them all.

Alisanne interested me the most. She was the only one Cicero said the full name and never only her first name. The woman must have made quite the impression on Cicero. The tone he used for her name was always with respect and reverence. Who had she been to be remembered so well? Maybe his mentor for when he joined the Brotherhood? The head of his Sanctuary?

I spent most of my days by the bed and watched Cicero. I replaced damp clothes and changed sweat soaked bedclothes with Nazir's help. Meena kept offering her "assistance", but I just chased her out of my room every time.

I did make time to go sledding with Aventus that first day. Cicero would want me to keep a promise; keeping promises was important to him. I had fun, but my attention kept drifting back to Cicero. Aventus noticed. "Go on back," he offered as he held the large wooden plank we had used. "I'll get Meena to help me hunt some rabbits. She likes how they scream."

"You're a good kid," I ruffled his short brown hair before I ran back to Sanctuary.

When Cicero finally woke up and not in delirium, he was in a bad mood. The jester was flushed from fever and hungry, but mostly he was mad that I wouldn't allow him to get up and attend to the Night Mother's coffin.

"Cicero is the Keeper; he must keep the Night Mother," Cicero complained shrilly.

"The Night Mother understands that you're sick," I said trying to offer Cicero a bowl of broth. He disdained it and turned his nose up at it. "Surely you've been sick before and needed to take a break. Let someone else watch the shrine for a day or two."

"No, never!" Cicero was aghast. "Cicero always, always takes care of Mother. If loyal Cicero is sick with a cough, he covers his mouth and is very, very careful to not befoul Mother with his sickness."

"Well, you're going to have to take some time off for being sick," I said offering the bowl again.

"You just don't want me to do my job!" Cicero accused me. He slapped the bowl out of my hand spilling hot broth all over me. I almost slapped him across the face but managed to refrain. It was only barely though. "You tried to keep me away from Mother before too!"

"If you hadn't acted like a fucking maniac, then I wouldn't have had to do that!" I yelled back.

The two of us glared at each other; feelings hurt and pride stung. I held my hands up in surrender. "Go then, I won't stop you."

Cicero glared at me unsure if I was trying to trick him or if I was sincere. He watched me cautiously as he slipped out of the bed. The Fool of Hearts smiled smugly as he stood, but his victory was short lived as he lost his balance and fell. I stood to help him, but he pushed me away. "Cicero doesn't need your help. Cicero is used to doing things on his own." His face was turned away from me so I couldn't see his face.

"I know," I said as I sat by him, "but I'm here now. Let me take care of you for a change."

"Would that make the Listener happy?" Cicero asked me. He turned so we were face to face. "Can Cicero serve by allowing to be served?" His hopeful expression made me sad. Cicero had been Keeper for so long he really didn't know how to be anything else.

"We'll see," I said. Cicero rested his head on my shoulder.

"Did Hecate like the flowers?"

"Yes, just next time be more careful. I don't want you sick like that again."

"Next time?" Cicero smiled slyly. "The Listener wishes for more of the same?"

Caring for Cicero went a little smoother after that, but once the jester decided he was going to be needy he decided he was going to be very needy. Constantly I had to fluff his pillow, bring more juice, talk to him, sing with him, and so on. It was enough for me to scream. It didn't help that I was pretty certain that Cicero was doing it primarily to get a reaction out of me.

The Keeper would frequently ask me to let him visit Mother, but I had to refuse. Nazir was out on contract and I didn't want to risk Cicero relapsing without help around. Finally, after almost two weeks, Babette declared Cicero was well enough to up and about again.

"Now Cicero can see Mother?" Cicero asked, his eyes shining with excitement. One would think he hadn't seen her in years instead of weeks.

"Let me finally cut your hair and you can go," I said as I pulled a chair over. "It won't take but a second."

As Cicero settled into the seat, I picked up his fine red hair. I bunched it with my fist and ran the scissors across so it was cut shoulder length again. Cicero snorted, "Hecate wasn't kidding about it only taking a second. Most people take some time to trim and shape the hair."

"Do it yourself next time then," I said sharply. I handed him the cut locks which were about six inches long. I had put off cutting Cicero's hair for quite a while. "Here."

"What is Cicero supposed to do with that?" he looked between the hair and me confused.

"Make it into a braid and give it to someone you love," I teased.

"Ooooh, Cicero will do that for Mother!" He quickly braided the hair together. "Cicero knows exactly where to put it too."

The Fool jumped up to get a ribbon for the hair. He sprinted out of the room, but quickly came back. I was putting the chair back with my end table. "Forget something?"

"Just this," Cicero gave me a quick kiss on the lips. "Thank you for taking care of Cicero." Then he was gone again a red blur.


	5. Mage Poker

**A/N: Mage poker is something I threw together. It uses all the normal rules of poker, so if you are familiar with it there are no surprises. For those who don't know the strength of the hands, just follow Aventus' definition. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 30 Morning Star 203 4E 3:00 PM<strong>

"Listener?" I could hear Cicero moving around in my room looking for me.

"I'm in here," I replied. I knew my voice would be muffled to Cicero, but I didn't feel like moving yet.

The doors to the wardrobe opened up and the resulting light blinded me. I shaded my eyes as I stared at the silhouette of the Keeper. "Why is the Listener sitting in a closet?" Cicero's tone was genuinely confused which made me laugh. It was hard to get one over the Fool of Hearts.

"I'm thinking," I said.

"In a closet?" Cicero repeated. He raised an eyebrow showing his skepticism.

"In or out," I said scooting forward enough for Cicero to sit behind me if he chose. "The light is bothering me." The Keeper shrugged and climbed in behind me. He had to push some of my dresses out of the way. After Cicero sat down, he had to wrap his legs around my waist since there was no space for them otherwise. I reached out and closed the doors to the wardrobe. The dresses and shirts closed around the two of us like a curtain.

I leaned back against Cicero who was twitching uncomfortably. "It's dark," he stated.

"Yes."

"Like the Void."

"I suppose so," I said. The wardrobe was good quality; with the doors closed all light was shut out. In the past, some closets would allow small lines of light in where the doors joined.

"It's quiet too," Cicero had an edge to his voice.

"Usually," I sighed. "That's why I like to think here. It's dark and quiet. It lets me shut out the rest of the world and just my thoughts. They usually run around so much I can't catch them, but here they have nowhere to go."

"Cicero doesn't care for the dark and quiet," the Keeper muttered. "Too much darkness, too much quiet back in Cheydinhal."

"You don't have to stay, you know," I answered. My serenity was quickly melting away with Cicero here.

"Cicero apologizes," the jester said not sounding apologetic at all. "Hecate may wish to quiet her thoughts, but Cicero hates the silence. Cicero would give anything for words to tumble in his head, especially sweet Mother's. Silence, silence, always the silence. No laughter since Cicero became the laughter." Cicero was becoming agitated; his speech faster and faster. His gloved hands tightened around my chest. It felt like a drowning man's grip on a piece of floating wood.

"Shush," I said as I placed my hand over his. "Maybe if you're quiet, I'll think out loud and we'll trade. My loudness for your silence. Okay?"

Cicero was shaking all over, but I could feel him nod from behind. It was odd to see him this way. I was used to Cicero always laughing and smiling that the few times I would notice him with a serious expression when he thought no one was looking felt like for a moment someone else had replaced my jester.

"Was Hecate thinking about the false Dragonborn again?" Cicero asked. His voice was a bit calmer, but worried still. I had been preoccupied for the rumors of a fake Dragonborn all month. The confirmation that someone had found my old dragon scale armor and was using it to support Ulfric Stormcloak's rebellion in my name infuriated me.

Part of me wanted to ride out of Dawnstar Sanctuary on Shadowmere and down to Whiterun to confront the imposter. I had imagined screaming at her. I had imagined stabbing her. Maybe smashing her lying face in with a mace. I had played out at least a dozen scenarios in my head. That didn't include my fantasies of what I would do to Ulfric if I caught him.

I couldn't risk it though. Ulfric's entire army was stationed at Whiterun waiting out the last little bit of winter. In two months' time, they would be on the march again to take Falkreath near our old Sanctuary.

There was no way I could possibly sneak past all of Ulfric's warriors, guards, and personal court to get to either Ulfric or the fake Dragonborn. I didn't have the patience for it. Meena or Cicero could, but I wanted to do this personally which was also why I couldn't just stake myself outside of Dragonsreach and just shoot those lying bastards down.

I wanted to be up close and personal for this. Normally I disdained the so called intimacy of the dagger. I'm an archer and killing someone at five hundred feet is more efficient than five feet. The target is just as dead and there's not three feet of steel cutting my tender flesh. For Ulfric and his whore, I wanted to see their faces when they died. I wanted to hear their screams.

It scared me a little.

I've always had a bad temper and have several methods to help me calm down. Like sitting in a dark closet. But no matter what I did, I found myself thinking about revenge. It distracted me all the time.

I had an epiphany recently. The fake Dragonborn would not be able to produce a Shout. Without the thu'um, surely people would notice that there was something wrong with Ulfric's champion. Especially when spoken with the right whispers in the right ears. I think General Tullius would be a good listener for such rumors.

"Strangely enough, no, not this time," I said. "I've been thinking about my birthday. It's coming up soon."

"Ooooh! How old will the Listener be?" Cicero asked excitedly. I winced at the Keeper's bluntness. As far as I could tell, Cicero was always truthful and by extent very blunt with his siblings. Sometimes I worried if he was just really good at lying and I couldn't tell the difference.

"Thirty-three," I admitted.

"That's not so bad," Cicero said. What did he even mean by that? "When is it?"

"The thirteenth of Sun's Dawn."

"Oh! That's the same date Cicero and Mother came to Sanctuary," Cicero giggled. "Sweet Diana was trying to hide her face, but Cicero knew her all the same."

I hadn't even realized it, but Cicero was right. I had been so wrapped up in adjusting to my new home that I had lost track of the days. It had been my birthday when I walked into the inner sanctum of the Night Mother and saw my jester and his mother as their true selves for the first time.

"Hm, that's three days before Heart's Day," Cicero nuzzled my neck as his hold around me became an embrace. "We could make use of a free room in an inn."

Heart's Day was a holiday for lovers. The Legend of the Lovers was sung and inns throughout Tamriel offered free rooms in honor of the Lovers, Polydor and Eloisa. I could easily imagine what Cicero had in mind for such a trip.

"Okay," I whispered. I couldn't believe the word came out of my mouth. My chest tightened and I could barely breathe. I wrapped my arms around my knees and drew myself into a small ball. Maybe Cicero hadn't heard me.

"Just let Cicero know when," Cicero said gently as he rubbed my shoulders. Sometimes I think he knew me better than I knew myself. "It would be best to leave on Morndas." Cicero oiled the Night Mother on Sundas nights. Leaving on Morndas would give us more time to be alone.

"Why were you looking for me?" I asked changing the subject. Even if we did go somewhere, I hadn't exactly promised anything intimate. I wouldn't be obligated to anything.

"Oh! Foolish Cicero!" the jester laughed with an edge I hadn't heard before. "Nazir wished to speak with you. He didn't want to tell Cicero what it was about."

"I better go see what he wants," I said opening the closet and sliding out. I turned and saw Cicero sitting with his legs dangling over the side. Clothes draped about him unceremoniously. For a moment his face was worried, but then it flickered into his usual carefree smile.

I waved goodbye and left to find Nazir. I thought about Cicero as I looked for the Redguard. It felt like he had been more insistent about a physical relationship than he used to be. When I thought about it, I realized it started about the same time we came to Dawnstar Sanctuary. About the same time he stopped sharing my bed as a brother. It was about the same time when he stopped kissing me lightly and all the little touches that felt like he was confirming my existence. I had thought Cicero had tired of me, but what if it was something else?

I wanted to wish for simpler times, but there had never been simple times with the jester.

I found Nazir in the main room working on something for dinner. As usual he had piles of parchment that details possible contracts, rumors, and other points of business.

"Ah, Listener, there you are. I was wondering if Cicero had managed to find you or not," Nazir said. Then with his usual wicked humor, "And then I had to wonder if I should have sent someone else to find you."

"Cicero delivered your message fairly promptly," I said dryly. "I was just a little hard to find. What's up?"

"I'd like to discuss Aventus' training with you."

"Is the boy ready for his first field contract?" I asked. Astrid had sent me out little more than two days after my arrival to Sanctuary. Maybe I was being too cautious with Aventus compared to other initiates, but the boy had no previous combat training while I had been an adventurer. The boy was probably the Brotherhood's first actual child member since Babette didn't count. He deserved some additional adjustment period.

"Almost," Nazir hedged. "I think it would be very beneficial to refurbish the torture room."

"No," I said simply. I didn't like the thought of that place. Strapping up people for the sole purpose of hurting them for information made me feel sick in my stomach. It's not like you can let someone go once you were done, even if we wore our cowls; they would know where Sanctuary was. If someone was promised they could go once they told what we needed to know, then that person had just been lied to.

"Let me explain why before you completely refuse," Nazir said. "Aventus is doing very well on training, but a practice dummy can only go so far. The boy needs a live target so he can get used to his foe screaming in pain or yelling curses at him. If you wait until he's on assignment, he could flinch at the wrong moment and die. I've seen that happen to initiates."

"The boy did fine with Rolff," I said with my hands on my hips.

"The boy also cried uncontrollably afterwards," Nazir responded. "It's no different than the other training we've given him. It gives him endurance and experience in a controlled environment. We spar so he can get used to taking punches and not reel from the pain. Learning how to torture a victim will do the same thing for him emotionally."

"I'm not sure I find that a good quality," I said.

"Listener, we're assassins," Nazir said simply.

Sometimes I wondered why the Night Mother had chosen me as the leader of her children. Where the others were satisfied with just knowing who their target was and what bonus was available, I needed to know who they were and why they needed to die. Contracts were identifiers like "a reckless mage" or "a visiting noble." My siblings always spoke fondly of their jobs, but none of them ever used their kills' names.

Maybe it was because I had been a bounty hunter before joining the Brotherhood. I liked knowing that I was killing a specific bandit chief and what he and his band's crimes had been. If I was to be the final chapter of someone's story, I wanted to know what it had been before closing the book.

Maybe I'm too much of a damn romantic.

"Let me think on it, Nazir," I said. The Redguard nodded his thanks and I took my leave. I went to the torture room to think.

The room had been sealed off since I had refused to refit it. I opened the wooden door and walked in to the cold, dirty room. Four wall manacles, two on each side of the room, hung empty. On the far end next to the fire pit was a stretching machine. Small work tables with ancient, rusty torture tools littered the room. I stood in the middle of the room with my arms crossed and shivered. I could too easily imagine screams of pain and cries for mercy.

Suddenly I felt Cicero's presence behind me. "Nazir wishes to refit this room? Cicero approves," the jester laughed madly. Gloved hands rested on my shoulders and traveled down my sides. "There is nothing quite like getting to know your victim before they die. The hours I spent with the jester are forever imprinted in my mind. How he laughed and cried and begged! Mostly he laughed… until he didn't. I was honored to know him."

"What was his name?" I asked.

Cicero paused then laughed. "What does it matter?"

I turned to face the jester. "You took his identity. That was the true trophy of your last contract, not the clothes."

Cicero's laughing face fell into a half-lidded glare. His expression was dark, dangerous. Then the laughter was back and he danced about me, twirling and spinning. "Cicero is Cicero. Mother gave him the laughter, a friend from the Void, when she would not speak with him. Someone to take away the loneliness of the years for poor, loyal Cicero." He tumbled and rolled about the room trying to make me laugh.

"Years?" I asked. Cicero had mentioned being alone with the Night Mother in Cheydinhal Sanctuary before but I had assumed it had been only for a few months.

"Oh, yes! Garnag went to get food and didn't come back. Left Cicero and Mother all alone. Alone with the silence. But there was the laughter and Cicero became the Laughter. Only it left Cicero with the silence again." The resulting laughter had only madness. "Cicero waited for the Listener because Cicero wasn't the Listener no matter how hard he tried."

"Shush, shush, it's okay!" I knelt by the jester and held him in my arms. No wonder he hated the dark and quiet. Cicero pressed his face against me like a child to his mother. I couldn't tell if he was still laughing or sobbing. "I'm here now. You're not alone any more."

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 13 Sun's Dawn 203 4E 9:00 PM<strong>

"Thirty-three? By Sithis, you're old," Aventus said with wide eyes.

"Kid, I'll respect your opinion once you've gone through puberty," I retorted as the others laughed.

All the family members were in Sanctuary to help celebrate my birthday. Aventus had napped during the day so he could stay up late. We were going to play mage poker tonight. Bonuses that had been stashed away were pulled out and everyone had large piles of septims before them. Aventus had the smallest pile, but the money was his since I had given him the pay for Rolff's death.

"How does this work exactly?" Aventus asked quickly changing subjects.

"Do you know the basics of poker?" Nazir asked as he shuffled the deck.

"Match colors, shapes, and numbers?" Aventus replied.

"It doesn't get any more basic than that," Meena said. Her green eyes were a bit brighter than usual; she had been using her catnip again. "Mage poker is that plus some environmental changes."

All of us were wearing shrouded robes, the Brotherhood version of mage robes. The large hoods would help conceal our features to make it harder to make accurate reads and long sleeves to make changing cards easier. Cicero had drawn the short straw labeling him as the mark, so he would be wearing his normal jester's clothes giving him a disadvantage. Technically everyone wearing robes was supposed to work together to push the mark out of the game. We had a set of gestures to help determine hand strengths to let teammates know when to hold or fold.

However, in practice, we usually broke up into smaller teams since pushing the mark out ended the game for the night. The more we could earn before then was the real goal. Aventus was my ace in the hole. We had practiced our own set of sign language. No one would think it strange if the boy lost early and would have to spectate. Aventus would check hands and let me know exactly what my opponent was holding. In exchange, he was going to get a generous portion of my winnings.

Of course, there was always the chance he had made a fake alliance with me and was going to feed information to one of the others. Babette would be my guess. Figuring out if your partner was honest or not was part of the fun too. Mage poker added several layers of complexity to a game already largely about bluffing and reading your opponent. It was a lot of fun and I enjoyed it whenever we had a chance to sit down and play.

Cicero came strolling in with his own large bag of septims. The Fool was whistling casually as he eyed each of us. I wondered if he had tried to set up an alliance with one of the others because he had not talked to me regarding one. Cicero smirked as he sat down and deftly stacked his coins into towering piles. I raised an eyebrow at the number of coins; it easily doubled those of Meena's pile who had brought the most of the rest of us.

"Okay, folks, you all know the rules," Nazir declared as he dealt a hand out as we all anted up. Dealer would rotate between hands to give everyone a chance with the cards. It was not uncommon for the dealer to either sleight of hand favorable cards or switch out the deck to a marked one.

Chatter was allowed and encouraged so we all quickly lapsed into talking about nothing. We talked about how our kills were going; bonuses achieved and botched what we wanted to eat for dinner the next couple of days and so forth. The only thing we didn't talk about was the Civil War. The others knew I had reached some sort of epiphany, but it was a still tender subject.

As I had expected Aventus quickly lost his coins. I had encouraged him to play as long as possible to learn as much of the game as possible. Learning how to read others was invaluable for an assassin and the game was going to last long into the night so there was no point in not at least trying to win even if we planned on him losing.

"Cicero, do you mind if I sit here and watch?" Aventus asked politely. He gestured to his chair that he had pulled up next to the Keeper. It was positioned so he could easily see Cicero's hand and gesture without being seen.

"Of course not, brother," Cicero waved casually. "In fact, if you wish, Cicero will show his hand to you so you can learn the game better for next time." The Fool smiled happily. As Cicero turned away, Aventus looked guilt stricken, but I nodded encouragement to him.

Play progressed and Meena was the next to fall. The Khajiit had been enjoying her catnip a bit too much and went from relaxed to zonked. Her unfocused state made it impossible for her to keep track of signals and too easy a mark to pass up. Nazir and I rooked her ruthlessly.

"Meena wants to sit in Cicero's lap and learn the game better too," she slurred suggestively. Her tabby-patterned tail wrapped around Cicero's neck and the tip tickled his face.

"You're thinking of a different game, cat," I said trying to not grind my teeth. Even since Cicero had been sick and Meena had helped keep him warm, the Khajiit had been making subtle and less than subtle suggestions to the Keeper. Cicero might not encourage them, but he didn't dissuade her either. I think he liked the attention.

Meena flipped a rude gesture and stuck her tongue out at me to show that she meant no offense. As the Khajiit stumbled off to her room, I could hear her mumble, "The music has the taste of the color blue upon my tongue." Gods, she was strange on that herb.

Two down, three more to go. Babette was my biggest concern. I could barely see the girl at all under her huge robes. In the past, she liked to flash her fangs to her opponents, but tonight they were sheathed. Babette still had not revealed her vampire nature to Aventus and was being discreet. Regardless, she had the most experience at the game, was very patient, and was well rested from sleeping all day. Playing all night would not be a tax on her endurance at all.

The smart thing to do would be to focus on pushing Cicero out. Once he was gone, we would call the game for the night. It was already midnight and I usually retired about this time of night. But I love a challenge and the thought of being the last person standing was too tempting.

Babette was to my left, Nazir to my right, and Cicero directly across the round wooden table from me. I flicked my eyes for Aventus to shift closer to Babette and feed me her hands. The boy caught my gesture and stood up from his seat. "Does anyone want anything to eat or drink while I'm up?" he offered. He was refused, but it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was when Aventus returned, it wasn't strange that he had to adjust his chair for his snacks.

Cicero still intentionally showed Aventus his cards, usually with a smile and wink, while Aventus stole peeks at Babette's hands. I was getting reads on two hands so I could focus on watching Nazir for tells. Just because I wanted to push Babette out didn't mean I could ignore the Redguard.

After another hour, Babette was out. "Augh, I don't understand," she grumbled as she slapped her cards onto the table. Babette pulled her seat back away from the playing table until she was sitting next to Aventus. "I loooost," she whined and buried her face in Aventus' shoulder. The boy patted her head sympathetically.

I smiled with amusement. Didn't look like Babette was losing from where I was sitting.

By now my pile was pretty large, Cicero's was still close to where he started, and Nazir was short stack. Minimum bids had increased hourly and soon Nazir wouldn't be able to cover the ante. The Redguard had to win a big hand soon or bow out.

I had a junk hand so I bowed out leaving a show down between Nazir and Cicero. Nazir was trying to out talk Cicero to get some advantage over the Keeper. "I don't think you're playing with a full deck," he taunted as he pushed in a large raise.

"How can poor Cicero be playing with a full deck?" Cicero replied with apparent unconcern. The jester flipped over a card that had been set aside to reveal a red joker. "There is only one Cicero and everyone knows a proper deck comes with two jokers." He flipped over the other card, the black joker, so it crisscrossed the red joker. Amber irises pointedly looked at me. "Maybe someday Cicero will find his match."

I pulled my hood forward to hide my blush. I was very glad I was not in this round.

Cicero hesitated on responding to Nazir's raise. One gloved hand spun a coin as the other tapped the table in thought. "Raise," he said finally pushing in enough coins to put Nazir all in.

Nazir looked at Aventus. I resisted a chuckle. The Redguard knew Aventus could see Cicero's hand; the Keeper had made it very clear all night long. The boy could let him know to call or fold. However, to Nazir's surprise Aventus gave no help at all. Nazir glanced at me and frowned. He must have figured out that the deck was also stacked against him.

"Call," he sighed. I've heard players say that you're never pot committed; that you should always fold if your instincts say to regardless how much of your coins you've already bid. Clearly, Nazir felt he had to win this pot or he was out regardless.

Hands were shown and Cicero's three of a kind beat Nazir's two pair.

It was down to me and the Keeper. I felt like cheering. With Aventus clearly backing me, there was no way I could lose. I glanced at our piles and saw we were pretty close in coin count. One good hand was all I needed and I would win.

"Listener and Keeper on the hunt," Cicero said sarcastically as he dealt. "Maybe the Listener would like to leave with her winnings now?"

"I think I'll test my skills a little longer, Keeper," I grinned. I checked my hand and saw two pair, kings and queens. "Besides, the game doesn't end until the mark is out."

"Don't say I didn't offer," Cicero shrugged.

Cicero had to be feeling confident by now. By all accounts we were on even ground now instead of the ridiculously stacked deck he had been given at the beginning of the night. The Keeper was used to longer hours than I and it was almost three in the morning now.

I glanced at Aventus and he signaled two low pair. That was good. Technically two pair isn't a great hand, but it's strong enough to play with especially on heads up. I began bidding and Cicero raised back. I hesitated and raised again. I couldn't afford to look too eager or Cicero would back out regardless of how good his hand may be.

Eventually I called so I could discard and see what my final hand would be. On the off chance Cicero pulled a full house, I didn't want to be too much in the hole. I almost screamed with joy when I got a third king putting me at a full house. I had the superior hand regardless so I could bid with abandon.

Cicero laughed loudly and showed his hand to Aventus. The boy's eyes widened and he signaled that Cicero had also hit the full house. Oh ho! The Keeper was going to go down.

Cicero put his hand on the table so he could push in his entire pile of coins for his bid. Before committing them to the pot, Cicero stalled. "Coins seem so pointless. What if we added a side bet to this, Listener?" His laughing eyes challenged me.

"What kind of bet, Keeper?" I challenged back trying to not sound too eager.

"Let's say an undefined favor," Cicero said as he placed his gloved finger against his lips.

"That's a very dangerous wager for anyone much less an assassin," I responded. It was basically agreeing to the free reign and good will of the other person. I could ask Cicero about his past and expect a straight answer for probably the only time ever.

Cicero leaned forward with his arms folded on the table. His cards were hidden as he challenged me. "Are you afraid? You should be."

"Make your bet and see if I call," I said.

"So you're accepting?"

"Try it and see," I grinned a predator's smile.

"All in plus an undefined favor," Cicero said pushing his coins forward. The bet was official, he couldn't back out now.

"Call!" I said immediately. I pushed my own coins in to make it absolutely clear. I flipped my hand over to reveal my cards. "Kings over queens, my dear Fool."

I started to reach for my winnings, but Cicero stopped me. "Not so fast, my sweet Listener," he laughed. The Fool of Hearts picked up his hand and showed a royal straight flush. The ace through ten of hearts grinned up at me. "Behold the final trick of the Fool of Hearts!"

"What?" I gasped. I looked at Aventus and saw he was just as surprised. I doubted the boy would fake astonishment at this point. If he had sided with Cicero and they had won, then now would be the time to brag. "You cheated!"

"No, Cicero won," the jester winked. Deft hands quickly swept close to twenty thousand septims into his pouch. "Cicero cheated no more than the Listener with her assistant." Gods, he knew Aventus was helping me and had encouraged the boy's trust.

Cicero left with his winnings and singing merrily, I slumped to the ground. The money meant nothing to me. There was always more coin out there to be collected one way or another. It wasn't anywhere close to my total savings. Even not losing the prestige of being the last player standing didn't mean anything compared to the real bet that the Fool of Hearts won.

Cicero had a favor of his choice from me and I had promised to spend Heart's Day with him.

Oh, gods.


	6. Heart's Day

**Loredas 16 Sun's Dawn 203 4E 4:00 PM**

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

I kept repeating the one word to myself as I nervously paced the master bedroom of my house, Proudspire Manor, in Solitude. The three story stone house was a beautiful building and had cost me more than thirty thousand septims to acquire and decorate. It was located near the Blue Palace, had an amazing view of the ocean from the patio, and the architecture was open and airy. Unfortunately I rarely used it even when I was the Dragonborn.

My home had been Breezehome, small and cramped as it had been. I had been comfortable there with its four small rooms. Many nights Lydia and I had hovered over the fire pit recalling narrow escapes from giants and bandits while a stew simmered in a black iron pot. I could still see every step as I bolted up the stairs to my room to grab some item I had carelessly forgotten before leaving to go adventuring with the sarcastic Nord.

Proudspire Manor was my vacation residence and I tend to never take time off my work. Even in my self-proclaimed retirement as Listener, I was always on the job. Training with the others, helping gather contracts, looking for recruits, following up on rumors; the work was never done. I had nights to relax by reading or taking long hot baths, but to take an extended amount of time to do nothing and enjoy the local sites? No, that wasn't my style.

Yet here I was in Solitude on Heart's Day trying to get ready to meet the Fool of Hearts for our romantic night together. Augh, why had I agreed to this? I've never had a romantic date for Heart's Day. I didn't want a romantic dinner with awkward conversation in a room too dark to see and some stupid walk on the beach with my hand intertwined with some guy looking at me with sappy eyes.

Let me just throw back a few glasses of wine and then tumble into bed with an eager partner. Slightly clumsy hands and hungry mouths followed by rolling on the bed for an hour or two. Then in the morning get dressed, say thanks for the memories, and be done with the whole ordeal.

It was simple and uncomplicated.

It was the exact opposite of Cicero. Maybe that was why I felt like a virgin as I dressed. I'd been attracted to him since we met. Living in close quarters just made things even more complicated. I lo-… cared for Cicero as a brother definitely. Cicero freely accepted all family members immediately. Anyone who passed the initiation was family with no questions asked. The Keeper was a man who would bleed and kill for his family.

I had thought about suggesting meeting here but Cicero had seemed to want the traditional lovers' rendezvous at an inn. I was going to meet him at the Winking Skeever for dinner. Then afterwards we would retire upstairs to one of the large rooms the Skeever provided. I touched the silken dress I would change into then. It was in the same style of dress I had worn for the assassination of Gaius Maro; sleek and satin. Revealing and promising at the same time. I had lost the original during the fire at Falkreath Sanctuary. This one was a night sky purple instead of blood red.

I could always change my mind. Cicero wouldn't force me do anything I wasn't ready for. He might be disappointed, but he wouldn't be mad. Surely he wouldn't cash in the favor I owed him from the disastrous poker game from three days ago. Cicero wouldn't do that.

A sane man wouldn't, but Cicero wasn't sane was he?

The last three days had been good. Cicero hadn't had any manic or depressed episodes. I hadn't seen him repeatedly stabbing anything with his eyes wide and wild. No ranting or screaming. No snapping at others for messing with his things for the mildest of reasons. No signs of the Keeper curled up in corner with his arms tightly around his knees while behind the Night Mother's huge coffin.

Just smiling and singing.

It had taken me a long time to realize that for Cicero smiling and laughing was just another type of armor. Instead of wrapping himself in protective leather or steel, the jester clothed himself in the motley velvet for armor and wielded his laugh and sharp tongue as weapons with a smile as his helmet. How different his world must be to use that to protect himself.

I took a deep breath and smoothed my dress. I picked up my overnight bag and looked into the full length mirror for one last check. My face was a little pinched from nervousness, but I looked fine otherwise. I wore a deep blue dress to enhance the color of my eyes. My hair was loose and cascaded down my back. I pushed back a wisp of hair into the silver cornet that adorned my brow and gripped the Amulet of Dibella that I was wearing for luck.

I had not been with anyone since Haelga and that was almost a year ago. My body was more than ready for the physical intimacy; I just wished my heart wouldn't thud so hard in my chest.

* * *

><p><strong>Loredas 16 Sun's Dawn 203 4E 5:00 PM<strong>

The usual crowd was here at the Winking Skeever. The owner, Corpulus Vinius, was talking with some patrons while he served from the counter. Gulum-Ei, an Argonian, sat in his usual place in a corner. Lisette, the inn's bard, sang "The Age of Aggression." There were several couples sitting at various tables eating and talking in low tones. I could see goofy smiles and hear happy laughs from all around the room.

I walked past an Imperial man wearing fine clothes sitting alone at a table to approach Corpulus at the counter. My eyes roamed the room for Cicero, but I didn't see the jester motley anywhere. The Fool had insisted that I be on time and he was nowhere in sight.

"Excuse me," I said putting my hand on the counter. "I'm supposed to meet someone here." Before I could continue, a hand covered mine. I turned and noticed the clothes of the man I had passed. As my eyes traveled up, I was shocked to see that it was Cicero. I hadn't even recognized him.

"Silly Diana," he said affectionately as he took my bag. Freshly cleaned hair floated about his face. The clothes were obviously new and as I looked I could tell they were from the Radiant Raiment. The dark forest green made Cicero's red hair look even more fiery than usual.

"Did Taarie or Endarie recognize you?" I asked as Cicero escorted me back to our table. I had worried that they would connect the dots that we had ordered a jester's outfit days before the Bard's College King Olaf festival had been sabotaged by a jester especially since Skyrim had not seen the merrymen in over a century.

"Of course they did! Cicero is the Dragonborn's husband after all and a good customer," Cicero laughed at his little joke he had pulled on me the last time we had been in Solitude. "Cicero promptly complained about how his wonderful outfit had been stolen by some wandering bandit who then used it for devious means." Cicero faked an angry scowl.

"The mean merchants quickly offered to commission another outfit, but concerned Cicero said he didn't want to be associated with such people and asked for something appropriate for today." He preened. "Does it pass?"

"Yes," I said as I touched the warm, thick material. Endarie must have noticed how much I liked the green the last time we had been there. Cicero smiled happily at my praise.

It didn't feel weird for Cicero to pull the chair out for me so I could sit down. As he pushed it in, Cicero said, "Let Cicero put Diana's bag away. I took the liberty of ordering something to drink while I was waiting."

While I waited, Corpulus brought a bottle of Cyrodilic brandy and two glasses. I admit that I was impressed. Cyrodilic brandy is very expensive normally; with the difficulty of importing during the war the price had to be higher than usual. Not that Cicero couldn't afford it.

Cicero returned shortly afterwards. He must have run to the room and back but didn't look out of breath. He picked up the bottle and started to pour some in a cup for me when I held my hand up. "I wasn't planning on drinking tonight," I admitted.

"Please, for Cicero," he said filling the cup with enough for a few sips. "Cicero doesn't want to drink alone." He poured the second cup.

"Aren't you on duty?" I asked picking up the glass. The dark amber liquid swirled in my hand.

"Not tonight," Cicero said as he pushed a chair next to mine before sitting down. He met my gaze as he drank. "Probably won't drink much, mind you. It's been a long time and Cicero doesn't want the wine to go to his head. He may make foolish mistakes and Diana won't respect him in the morning." I couldn't tell if he was flushing with pleasure or embarrassment.

I mentally shrugged and took a drink of the brandy. I had heard that Cyrodilic brandy is supposed to help increase one's stamina without any of the nasty side effects of other lesser refined alcohol. I still wanted a clear head for tonight, but a few drinks before dinner wouldn't be problematic, and Cicero deciding he wasn't the Keeper for a night was something to drink to. Liquid fire smoothly slid down my throat and I gasped in pleasure.

We ordered dinner and chatted while we waited. Cicero mostly spoke in first person tonight, the surest sign of lucidity for him. He was trying so hard to be Cicero the man tonight and not the jester. The only time I ever saw him as only one role was when he was performing the weekly oiling for the Night Mother. During those hours, Cicero was only the Keeper and nothing else.

"Aren't we supposed to talk about ourselves? Some 'get to know each other better' stuff?" I asked as I twirled my napkin. The brandy was already making me feel more relaxed for which I was grateful. I wasn't going to be able to talk if my heart had stayed jammed in my throat all night.

It was easier with Cicero here instead of me imagining what was going to happen. Sometime in the last year the jester had replaced Lydia as my best friend. I missed my housecarl, but there had been parts of me she simply hadn't understood that Cicero did. Maybe it was because he and I were both Imperial while Lydia considered herself a true Nordic daughter, one of the few things about her personality I honestly didn't care for. Or maybe it was because he and I were both predators on the hunt stealing through the night cloaked in shadow while Lydia was more a mother bear, fierce and loud but only concerned with taking care of her own.

"What does Diana wish to know?" Cicero asked playfully. His hands, still wearing his silly jester gloves, fiddled with his empty glass.

I paused. What could I ask that wouldn't bring up bad memories for him? "Tell me about how you became Keeper," I said hesitantly. It seemed unfair to have Cicero talk about his job the one night he had put it aside, but it was what Cicero was at his core.

"I remember when they brought Mother to Cheydinhal. Rasha had ordered her coffin opened so we could examine her body for any damage sustained from the journey. Garnag had been taken to his room to rest and heal. His eye had taken a terrible wound and Pontius was certain the orc would lose it. I lost my breath when I saw her. Dead and terrible, but beautiful and godly all at the same time. I wanted to fall to my knees and swear myself to her all over again.

"We thought surely the Night Mother would choose a new Listener soon. Honor one of us with her words and lead us once again. With so many Sanctuaries fallen it was imperative for us to hear the Black Sacraments to keep the faith of those who needed vengeance. Two months passed and no sign of a Listener being chosen. Garnag had recovered from his flight from Bravil and mentioned to Rasha that he had the Keeping Tomes; he had found them when he retrieved the Night Mother.

"Rasha decided to reinstate the position of Keeper. The remaining members of the Black Hand gathered to determine who would be given the honor. The next day Rasha informed me that I had been chosen. I was honored but saddened. To never lift my blade again, to never save a soul, pained me.

"Mother's body is perfectly preserved, but her crypt had been blessed to keep out the contaminations of the living. You've seen my work, you know what I do. I went to Mother and solemnly promised that when she was ready to speak that she would be able to; that her silence was only by her choice and not because she would be unable to. It was my responsibility. It was my vow."

Cicero fell silent with his story done. He drank some more brandy, his eyes still far away remembering those days vividly. I reached out and took his hand with mine. He squeezed it gratefully. A few moments passed as I absorbed his story. I never had expected for Cicero to be so forthright.

Our meals came and we were quiet as we ate.

"Tell me about how you defeated Alduin," Cicero countered. He stared at me challengingly. I usually gave very brief answers about things I didn't want to talk about while Cicero gave circular answers.

"Ugh," I groaned. It's what I got for opening this can of worms. "I had retrieved the Elder Scroll and read it to reveal how the heroes had defeated Alduin the first time. I was visiting my mentor Paarthurnax at the time. After Dragonrend, a Shout that was made by men to make dragons realize their own mortality, had been revealed to me, Alduin challenged me at the Throat of the World. Paarthurnax and I fought him and when he was weakened, Alduin retreated to Sovngarde to feast on the souls of heroes to regain his strength.

"Paarthurnax suggested that I trap one of Alduin's allies in Dragonsreach. The keep had originally been built to capture a dragon long ago by King Olaf. Jarl Balgruuf agreed to my request and I summoned the dragon by calling his name. Dragons respond to their names like a challenge. Odahviing came and we caught him as planned. I made the dragon swear fealty to me and we rode together to Skuldafn where Alduin's portal to Sovngarde was.

"I jumped in and found the afterlife in disarray from Alduin's domination. Souls lost in the fog and many gone from Alduin devouring them. I made my way to the whale bone bridge and challenged Tsun to combat for the right to cross. It was a difficult fight since I had to heavily rely on my Shouts, but I made it across.

"Once in Sovngarde proper, I found Hakon One-Eye, Felldir the Old, and Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, the heroes who had sent Alduin spiraling into our time. I told them what was going on in the world and they agreed to help me. We united our voices as one Shout and forced Alduin out of hiding. Together with our forces combined, we were able to truly kill Alduin and eliminate his threat forever.

"Tsun was pleased with my acts of heroism and promised me that I would return to Sovngarde after I died. I didn't agree with his thought that it was a reward and told him as much."

"And then?" Cicero asked.

"And then…he threw me out of heaven," I admitted with a sigh. Cicero burst into loud laughter. "Don't laugh! He still threatened that I had to come back some day." I scowled which made Cicero laugh harder.

"Don't worry, dear sister," Cicero said as he stood. He offered his hand and I took it. Cicero led me to the open floor near the bard and started to dance with me. "Our Dread Father will never let those barbaric Nords have you. He will pull you into the Void and have you serve him instead."

It was a bit tragic that the thought of nothingness forever was more appealing than existing at an eternal feast.

"Do you think there is dancing in the void? Singing? Surely our Father will allow the two of us to caper," Cicero suggested suddenly worried.

I giggled at the thought. "You're silly," I said.

"I would rather have no partner more than you," Cicero said seriously. "Cicero dreamed of a Listener for so long and is happy it is Hecate."

I swallowed nervously. I glanced around the inn and saw it was getting late. The patrons remained were couples who were cuddling and kissing in various corners of the inn. I could see lips brush against ears and speak the words normal people live for.

"Please promise me something," I said. "Promise me that you won't say the Binding Words." Cicero was confused so I continued, "Don't say the Binding Words that normal people use. Please, not tonight."

Cicero looked around the room and saw what I meant. Those three little words that lovers say on this day. The words husbands and wives share every night and each morning. Three little words that were being repeated right now by every couple in the room save the two of us.

"Not tonight," Cicero promised. "Unless Diana says them first." He kissed me, his lips firm and determined. "Are you ready?"

I nodded against Cicero's chest. As ready as I was going to be.

* * *

><p><strong>Loredas 16 Sun's Dawn 203 4E 8:00 PM<strong>

It was time.

I sat nervously on the huge bed. Cicero had left me alone for a few minutes to change and freshen up. I was now wearing the sexy purple dress. The feel of the cool cloth felt good against my fevered skin. I gently rubbed a thumb across the material and my nipple hardened in response leaving a sharp contrast. I was incredibly turned on right now.

There was a sharp knock at the door; Cicero was checking if I was ready. "Come in," I stammered. The Fool of Hearts walked in once again resplendent in his jester's motley. Had Cicero changed clothes for his own courage or to help me feel more comfortable?

I stood and walked towards the jester and he came towards me. Gloved hands circled my waist and hungry lips found mine again to continue the kiss from downstairs. "Tell Cicero what you want and it will be yours," he promised with his lips against my ear. Heat rapidly flushed across my body chasing away the chill.

I crushed Cicero's velvet top in my hands as he pushed me back towards the bed. I fell backwards onto the mattress with Cicero's weight pleasantly on me. I fumbled with his leather ties and he pulled the top of my dress down freeing my breasts. His gloved hand cupped my right breast while his mouth found the other.

I would never be able to undo his jerkin from this angle. I pushed Cicero so he rolled away. I followed and ended up on top of him. I grabbed both of his wrists and placed them above his head. Cicero left them there as if held by invisible bonds. I smiled; the Keeper was very obedient.

I managed to untie his jester's top and pulled the cloth open. I looked down at the bare skin crisscrossed with so many scars. A long angry gash here, small nicks there. Arnbjorn's evil bite dominated a large part of Cicero's left side. I ran my hand down Cicero's chest enjoying how his breathing deepened with pleasure. When I got to the bite scar, I gently traced it with one finger. I was surprised when Cicero gasped and began to laugh and wiggle.

"Listener, that tickles!" he complained. His hands were still firmly where I had left them. Every interesting indeed and something I couldn't pass up.

"This?" I asked innocently as I lightly traced my fingertips over his chest. Cicero laughed harder and bucked against me to try to get me to stop. I was amused to note that he didn't actually tell me "no" or "stop" as he begged.

I alternated the pressure of my touch to see exactly how sensitive Cicero was. If I barely hovered my finger above his skin, he would still be tickled. The barest touches drove him crazy while firmer ones brought pleasure. I laughed at how quickly his breathing would change from aroused to laughter.

Finally, my fingers slipped under Cicero's pants line. I enjoyed the feel of his coarser pubic hair before grasping his manhood. The flesh jerked in my hand as he stiffened. It was too much fun to watch Cicero as I stroked him. "Diana," he groaned as he arched his back to push himself further into my grasp.

This was the farthest we had ever gotten. I kept waiting for someone to interrupt us. Maybe a dragon attack or Ulfric's army suddenly outside of Solitude would stop everything. Hell, I could imagine Nazir bursting through the door and yelling that we were needed.

My thoughts were straying like they did too often during sex. I wondered if Nazir had arrived at Riften to talk to Delvin Mallory about fitting the torture room or if the Redguard had stopped for the night to find someone to share his bed. What was Meena up to now? Would Babette try anything with Aventus for Heart's Day?

I gasped when I suddenly was flung on my back and Cicero was on top of me. His hands were holding my arms tightly, not enough to hurt but to get my attention. "Don't wander away," the jester begged as his amber eyes boring deeply into me. "Stay with Cicero."

"Okay," was all I managed. I kept my eyes on Cicero's even as his kisses traveled further and further down my body.

Any moment now something would interrupt us.

But for a change, nothing did.

* * *

><p><strong>Loredas 16 Sun's Dawn 203 4E 9:00 PM<strong>

"How can Cicero help you?" I could only see the jester's back, but I could tell by his tone he was wearing his shit-eating grin.

"I need to ask you to stop. That... Shouting... it's making people nervous." A Solitude guard said, his voice indignant. After Cicero had gone down on me, I had screamed so hard from coming my thu'um had caused items to fall off the bookshelves. Clearly some of our neighbors had heard us.

Cicero leaned with one arm on the door frame. "It's not really Cicero's fault. Well, it is, but can you blame me?" I couldn't keep in my giggles anymore and started laughing. The poor guard had to be extremely uncomfortable since Cicero was wearing only his cap, boots, and gloves.

"Leave the poor man alone. He's just doing his job," I managed to say between gales of laughter.

"Good, glad we straightened that out." The guard quickly left.

Cicero closed the door and returned to the bed. As he kicked off his boots, he said, "Now for Cicero's turn." The Fool of Hearts grin was enough to eat me alive.

* * *

><p><strong>Loredas 16 Sun's Dawn 203 4E 10:00 PM<strong>

"Can't say I've heard any laws against... Whatever it is you're doing. But I'll lock you up if I have to." The guard threatened this time. I could see Corpulus standing nervously behind him.

"Whatever," I said as I slammed the door in the guard's face.

"I've got my eye on you," was the guard's muffled reply.

I dropped the thin sheet that I had wrapped around myself as I returned to the bed.

* * *

><p><strong>Loredas 16 Sun's Dawn 203 4E 11:00 PM<strong>

"Unfair! Unjust!" Cicero screamed as we were physically thrown out of the Skeever. The third time there had been a noise complaint, the guards just came into the room and picked us up and dragged us out of our room. I had barely managed to drag on my underclothes before being evicted, but Cicero had decided to fight with the guards instead of protecting his dignity. "Cicero wants a refund!"

"You didn't even pay for the room," Corpulus snarled as he hit Cicero in the face with his jester's clothes.

Now we were outside in the middle of the night with little to no clothes on, our things thrown on the ground with the Keeper screaming angrily at the inn. I was too busy laughing to be any help. Every time I would look at Cicero, I would start laughing again.

Finally, I managed to calm down enough to grab up our things. "Come on, I don't want to end the night in jail," I said as I grabbed Cicero's hand. The Fool turned towards me smiling.

"Where to then?" he asked as he quickly pulled on the underclothes I handed him.

"My place," I grabbed Cicero's hand tightly as we ran laughing like idiots into the night. "Hold on tight," I warned. I wanted to get back to the privacy of a bedroom as soon as possible. "**WULD!"**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I really enjoyed writing this part. Especially with the scenes with the guards. **

**I hope this satisfied everyone who has been waiting. =)  
><strong>


	7. Lessons

**Fredas 21 Mid Year 203 4E 10:00 AM**

One of the biggest advantages of living in Dawnstar Sanctuary was living next to the ocean. Most of the year it was too cold to actually swim in the water, but I loved to go down to the water line and watch the tide go in and out. The constant ebb and flow of the water was calming and the sound of the waves soothing.

I thanked the Eight that it was finally officially summer. For the last several weeks Aventus and I had been out in the sun slowly getting used to the heat. I was now fairly brown skinned from sitting out in the sun on the wooden rowboat Nazir had made for Aventus while the boy fished.

Aventus loved to go fishing. He used to go down to the docks in Windhelm to catch his dinner. He was a patient boy who didn't mind the quiet while waiting for a tug on his line. It was a wonderful quality in an assassin and unfortunately one I did not share.

Usually Nazir went out with Aventus for the fishing trips to supervise for safety. It was not practical to let a young boy out in the waves alone. The Redguard would use their catches for our meals. One time Nazir had gone out on contract which meant Aventus was without a watcher. I suggested Cicero but discovered to my surprise that the Keeper got seasick even on a small boat. The resulting mess overboard was pretty disgusting, especially with the slaughterfish trying to eat it like chum.

The first few times I went out with Aventus I was bored out of my mind. I have never understood how anyone can enjoy spending their time fishing. I quickly discovered that Aventus didn't feel insulted if I didn't fish too and he preferred the quiet to chatter. "The noise scares the fish, you know." Now I volunteered and I started bringing along books to read.

I had not been able to read much since joining the Brotherhood and I missed it. I've always had a strong love of books. The fictional worlds full of interesting characters that you could visit again and again held a strong allure for me. No matter how bad things were for me, I could always find comfort and stability in those written words.

Unfortunately living with Cicero made that virtually impossible. As soon as I picked up a book, the jester would start talking and wanting my attention for something or other. If I tried to ignore him and focus on my book, Cicero would pout and pull some prank forcing me to acknowledge him. I couldn't even wait for him to be busy with tending to the Night Mother's coffin since Cicero would do that while I was occupied with talking to Nazir about Brotherhood business.

Sometimes while I was on the boat I would look up and see the Fool pacing the waterline with his gloved hands folded behind his back, kicking shells while he waited for us to come ashore. Once back, Cicero would bombard me with whatever was currently on his mind whether it was a new song or joke or something regarding the Night Mother's coffin.

I had heard the "Can you bait a hook under a minute? Then you must be a master-baiter! Ha,ha,ha,ha." joke many, many…many times.

Today, Aventus was dropping me off at one of the islets that was near the Sanctuary. I could watch the boy just as easily from there while propped against a rock, lying on a sleeping fur instead of bobbing on the waves. A small basket held some snacks and weak wine for me to enjoy as I read in the hot sun.

"If you need anything, you give a shout," I warned as I disembarked. Aventus solemnly nodded before pushing off.

"I wish Babette could come at least once," the boy grumbled as he rowed out to deeper water. It had been eight months since Aventus joined us and Babette still had not revealed that she is a vampire. I couldn't help but feel it won't be for much longer. Aventus was starting to get suspicious.

One day while we were out fishing, Aventus asked, "Babette isn't like other girls, is she?"

"She _is_ an assassin, dear," I said, folding my page to mark it. Festus used to always cringe when I did that and I thought of the cranky old wizard every time when I did it now. I felt both a pang of sadness and fondness at the memory.

"No, not that. I mean in other ways. Like how she sleeps every day and the way she talks sometimes. She doesn't talk like other kids I know. And how long has Babette been in the Brotherhood anyway? She's told me stories of her contracts and there are lots of them. How did she get so good with potions?"

"You'll have to ask her that," I said quickly putting my nose back into my book.

"But it's rude to ask other siblings about themselves," Aventus reminded me. "Remember how mad you got when Meena told me to ask you and Cicero about making the beast with two backs? I still don't know what that means, but you sure were mad."

Somehow I managed to push my face even further into my book to hide my blush. I'll kill that cat yet. Meena had thought it would be funny to put Aventus up to that little query when Cicero and I returned from Heart's Day in Solitude.

It was the other reason I was spending so much time with Aventus on his rowboat. I had thought sleeping with Cicero would erase my desire for the jester just like with every other lover I had ever taken. The thrill of the hunt was over. Surely the want would fade, right? Wrong.

If anything, learning exactly what the Keeper was capable of just made me want more. I had never been in a position to have a regular lover and actually had gone out of my way to avoid it. I didn't want the maintenance.

As fun as several months of sexcapades with the Keeper would have been, I had too many other responsibilities to indulge. We still desperately lacked any arcane support in our ranks and Nazir was busy outfitting the torture room for Aventus' next step in training. I dreaded that part very much and often found myself waking up in the morning with my stomach hurting with anxiety.

I was so busy with my thoughts; I failed to see the figure pull up from the depths of the water behind me on the islet. I didn't notice until cold wet hands wrapped around me, pinning my arms to my side. I screamed in terror until I turned around and saw a dripping wet Cicero grinning madly wearing only his underthings.

I was also wearing only my underclothes. It only made sense in the hot sun to not wear normal clothes so you could take a dip in the much cooler water without worrying about the weight dragging you down or the seawater spray ruining your outfit while in the boat.

"What are you doing here?" I squeaked. The jester had scared the breath out of me. "How did you get here?"

"Just because Cicero gets seasick, doesn't mean he cannot swim," Cicero teased. He pushed me until I was lying on my back on the sleeping fur. With Cicero pressed against me, my clothes were dampened from his wet skin and definitely not from the pressure of his hips on mine. "Remember when Cicero swam with Hecate to kill the Emperor? Cicero had to stare at Hecate's fat bottom as she climbed the anchor."

"You're so smooth," I said sarcastically. I craned my neck to check on Aventus and saw that he was fine. The boy's back was to us, but he was in the boat and clearly not in trouble.

"May I?" Cicero asked with his lips near my ear.

"May you do what?" I asked confused.

"This," the Keeper demonstrated by cupping my 'fat bottom' with both his hands while continuing with more pressure from his hips onto mine. I gasped in pleasure from the friction.

"The boy will see us," I stammered. This was exactly why I had to avoid Cicero. He never exactly begged, but he would always ask permission for physical intimacy and I had a very, very hard time refusing him.

"Then he'll finally have the answer to his question, won't he?" Cicero said laughing. He had not continued his advances waiting for my response. Deft fingers played with the ties to my underclothes.

I had the unfortunate image of Aventus rowing by and innocently asking, "Is that what Meena meant?" I couldn't stop myself from laughing. Cicero looked confused, but joined me. I pushed him off me and sat up.

I wished I had brought spare clothes, but having to deal with my book, food, sleeping fur and an oversized hat to keep the overhead sun off my face had been enough of a burden at the time. Having a shirt to pull on now would have been nice with Cicero's hungry gaze taking in my mostly naked body.

Not that I wasn't doing the same thing back. Scars fascinate me and Cicero was covered in them. I wanted to know their stories, but was too shy to ask. The only one I recognized was the huge bite mark. Arnbjorn's scar dominated Cicero's left side and my eyes were drawn back to it. The werewolf had come very close to killing Cicero for trying to kill Astrid. As much as an inch to one side and Arnbjorn would have gotten that artery after all. I couldn't blame the Nord, but I was glad he had failed.

"When was the last time you slept?" I asked noting the dark shadows under Cicero's eyes. The jester shrugged. The days and nights tended to blur together for Cicero. He could remember certain big events by relating them to other things that had happened like killing the Emperor or meeting me, but ask him the day or date and you'd be lucky to get a correct answer. Except what day it was to oil the Night Mother. Cicero always got that one right.

"Lay by me," I commanded reclining on the sleeping fur again. This time Cicero was beside me in a more brotherly fashion. I picked up my book again certain of what would happen next.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Cicero asked. I sighed; sure enough he wasn't going to let me read.

"Why do you think I'm avoiding you?" I asked.

"Because you didn't deny it," Cicero scowled. "You just asked a different question."

I hesitated not sure how to answer. "I'm thinking," I said to stall for time.

"Cicero will wait," the Keeper promised. He rolled onto his stomach and folded his arms before resting his head on them.

I stared up at the clear blue sky. My hands were folded on my stomach with my book underneath. I crossed and uncrossed my ankles several times. As much as I tried, I couldn't think of a sensible way to express myself. I am avoiding you because I want to sleep with you? That was worse than when I had told Cicero I wouldn't sleep with him despite wanting to because of my one night stand only policy. Hell, my usual argument of not wanting the maintenance of a relationship didn't really hold water since the Keeper was higher maintenance of an entire Hold.

I was afraid of getting lost in those intense almost golden eyes. I couldn't surrender to those clever hands and eager mouth constantly when the Brotherhood needed me to be focused and lead them. Surely, Cicero would understand duty had to be first. I turned to the Keeper to give him my answer.

He was fast asleep.

Figures.

I pulled out my hat and placed it on my head as I settled down to read. At least I would have some quiet for a while.

* * *

><p><strong>Fredas 21 Mid Year 203 4E 6:00 PM<strong>

"It huuuuuuurts," Cicero whined. He was sitting in a chair wearing only his pants and boots. The motley top was folded to the side with his cap on top of it. Tears clung to his eyelashes. The jester was absolutely miserable.

I had forgotten that Cicero had barely been out in the sun unlike Aventus and me. Where we had slowly built up a tolerance to the hot sun's rays, Cicero was completely unprotected. Add in his fair skin and red hair, Cicero had suffered from a very bad sun burn. His entire body was an angry red color.

"Hold still, I cannot reach with you twitching like that," Babette scolded. She was gently applying some aloe vera to the burns. Cicero hissed and jerked away despite the vampire child's light touch.

"Babette should make Hecate do it," Cicero complained. "It's her fault this happened to poor, loyal Cicero." I giggled guiltily from Cicero's glare.

"It is not funny!" Babette snapped at me. She shoved the jar into my hands. "I believe the Keeper has a good point. You are at fault. You should not have let him stay out there for so long asleep directly under the noon sun. Did you even bother to think?" The vampire stomped off. It would have been funny if she wasn't so angry. I should have realized that Babette would not find a sunburn funny in the slightest.

I heard Cicero hissing in pain and saw that he was touching the sunburn. "Stop," I said. "Why are you touching it?"

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts," Cicero cried. I rarely saw him in tears.

"Hold still. Let me apply the potion," I said feeling terrible. I really should have been more careful, but I had gotten caught up in my book and completely didn't take into consideration that Cicero would get a burn or that it would be so bad.

Cicero looked so pitiful with his red skin and sulky expression. I leaned forward and kissed him deeply. "I really am sorry," I murmured. I put some of the mixture on his burning cheeks.

"Hecate only wants Cicero when he's hurt or sick," the Keeper lamented still frowning. "Cicero wishes Hecate would be normal for once."

* * *

><p><strong>Sundas 30 Mid Year 203 4E 4:00 PM<strong>

It was time.

I had been dreading this for months now, but Nazir had declared that the torture room was ready to be implemented. Delvin Mallory had supplied the appropriate tools for the room months ago. The wall manacles had been replaced and firmly fastened. An iron maiden sat in one corner while the other housed a stretching device. Whips, pokers, daggers, and too many to name implements had been carefully categorized and organized for easy reference by Nazir's personal system. Cicero had danced with glee and clapped his hands like a small child eager to put them to use.

The other older assassins; Nazir, Babette, and Cicero, had lovingly looked over the various polished, gleaming steel tools of torture in a manner that I had found rather disturbing.

I had been surprised by Meena's attitude about the ordeal. I had thought she would join the others in their fascination. The Khajiit had disdained the need for both torture tools and room. "This one has her claws and fangs," she had said, "what more do I need?"

Ironically, I hated this room most because it had been where I thought I was saying goodbye to Cicero for the last time instead of its intended use. I never came in here; there was no reason to until now. However, if I was going to have Aventus train in torture, I felt I needed to attend too at least for the first session. I firmly believe that I should not ask someone to do something that I was not willing to do myself.

I was sitting crossed legged in the middle of the room on the floor. Aventus was sitting on my lap. The boy looked handsome in his Dark Brotherhood clothes. It suited him. The red shirt with the large Black Hand print emblazoned on the chest was a bit big, but I knew Aventus would quickly grow into it. He was growing rapidly and had already outgrown several outfits.

There were days I had wondered if I had done Aventus a great injustice by bringing him here. I could have just as easily forced him to go to Honorhall or paid someone to come for him. He would have been around real children his age and grown up learning all the lessons every child learns.

Instead he was here learning how to bring pain to an unknown stranger so he could survive when he must kill. For an assassin to hesitate at the wrong moment, to flinch for even a second, could mean death for the killer and not the target.

At least the boy looked excited. His physical training was going as well as could be expected. He moved quietly in the shadows and managed to steal a fair amount of snacks that he generously shared with his siblings, namely Meena and Cicero. Aventus had been hurt that Babette never shared in the bounty, but the girl always made sure to praise him for his skill.

Cicero was looking much better too. Babette's oils and potions had done wonders for the Keeper's skin. There had been minimal peeling but only because I had been required to "Oil the Cicero" multiple times a day. I was so tired of Cicero insisting that I get "all the hard to reach spots."

Sometimes I feel like I don't give Babette enough credit as our alchemist and healer. The girl literally had hundreds of years of experience. Her potions were stronger and smoother than any others I had quaffed. The problem is that restoration, whether it was a spell or potion, has limited effectiveness. You have to use restoration almost immediately to have any effect. Even then it only really works on immediate damage. Wounds knit together faster, but the actual damage is still there, especially if it is tissue or bone damage. The name "healing potion" is actually misleading. They don't repair so much as help block out the pain so you can keep functioning at optimum efficiency while fighting in increasingly more dangerous situations.

Think of it as an adrenaline rush in a bottle.

Regardless, Babette's potions had reduced most of the pain Cicero would have suffered and kept his skin moisturized enough that he barely peeled at all. Ten days later, Cicero's skin was only a little red similar to a healthy blush instead of the angry burns he had initially.

There was currently only one victim chained to the wall. There could be more, but Nazir had felt that having one would allow Aventus to focus his attention instead of being distracted by others' cries for help. She was an older woman, a grandmotherly type with her iron gray hair pulled back into a stern braid wrapped into a bun that had mostly fallen apart. Her wrists bled from straining against the iron manacles.

Cicero hummed happily as he tested his blade for sharpness. "Is Aventus ready?"

"Yes," the boy said, leaning forward. His posture was that of an eager student not only ready to learn but to make his teacher proud.

Cicero smiled cheerfully before turning to his victim. "Hello, hello!" he chirped. "You're going to be our test subject today. Lucky you!"

"Please, this is about my husband's money, isn't it?" the woman rasped. "I'll tell you where I hid it from the tax collectors. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"No, no, no!" Cicero scolded clicking his tongue in frustration. "You spoke much too soon. You were supposed to wait and let Cicero show the boy what to do. Now what can Cicero do? Hm, I suppose showing where to cut for the most amount of time with the least bleeding will have to suffice. Lesson plan change, sorry." His playful grin was not the least bit apologetic, but almost gleeful.

"Come close, child," Cicero gestured for Aventus to stand next to him. "How can Aventus learn from so far away? Most of the training is in the holding of the blade anyway. Cicero will stab and slice and cut. Then it will be Aventus' turn. Generous Cicero will not be greedy and not share."

Aventus looked at me and I nodded permission. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran to the Keeper. "Did you bring a blade?" Aventus nodded. "Good, good. Now watch."

The next two hours were very educational for both Aventus and me. The boy followed Cicero's examples with much less finesse but with more than enough enthusiasm. By the end of the lesson, the two of them were covered in splatters of blood and the woman was dead.

The woman had begged and screamed for help and mercy. She offered to tell them whatever they wanted to know and had even offered up what she considered useful tidbits to distract her tormentors. Mostly Cicero and Aventus ignored her as Cicero explained what he was doing and why. A few times Cicero had slapped the woman screaming at her to shut up so he could talk. They never once asked her a question, not even her name. I could see the confusion in her eyes as she died; why would anyone hurt her so and not want something from her in return?

When the lesson ended, Aventus solemnly thanked Cicero for his time and instruction. Cicero had laughed and ruffled the boy's hair before dismissing him. "Go. Clean up. Get ready for dinner."

Cicero turned to me smiling madly after Aventus had scurried away. He rubbed his hands in satisfaction. "That went rather well I think. Using a woman who looked similar to Grelod was a stroke of genius on Nazir's behalf." Cicero bent forward so his face was inches from mine. "What do you think, Listener?"

I looked at Cicero's blood splattered face and then over to the dead woman. Words failed me; I couldn't think of anything to say. Instead I burst into tears.

Cicero jumped back; startled by my reaction. "What's wrong? Did Cicero do something wrong? Tell Cicero!" He fluttered around anxiously while I sat on the ground weeping. Cicero sank to his knees and drew me into his arms. Part of me wanted to resist and shy away from the blood of his victim, but I wanted his embrace more.

I sank my head against the jester's shoulder and cried. I couldn't do this. I could kill someone. I could order to have someone tortured for information, but to hurt them just for the sake of it? No.

"Just tell Cicero what is wrong. Cicero will make it better," the Keeper tilted my face up and rained down butterfly kisses to try to wash away the tears. Our roles were reversed with him as the comforter and me as the inexplicably tormented soul.

Oh, the irony.


	8. Imperial City

**Morndas 1 Sun's Height 203 4E 8:00 AM**

"_Daughter, approach me,"_ Mother's voice filled my head as I entered the public room for breakfast. Her tone was displeased. I swallowed nervously wondering what could have caused her anger. I knelt before the stone coffin trying to ready myself for Mother's words.

To my surprise, the doors of the mighty resting place swung open. "_Enter."_ My heart was beating a thousand times a minute as I stood. I felt dizzy from nervousness as I entered the shadowed tomb. The doors swung close leaving me in total darkness with the corpse matron.

There was really no space for me in here. When I had entered before at Astrid's command, I had casually leaned against the Night Mother's body while waiting for Cicero to unwittingly reveal who his accomplice in betraying Astrid was. Now I feared to show such disrespect. I stood as straight as I could so that I was not putting any of my weight on either the coffin's interior or Mother. I noticed that I had edged up onto my tiptoes and tried to relax, but could not find enough purchase to really do so. My arms were firmly pinned to my sides giving me an almost comical military stance.

"_I gave you an order, daughter,"_ the Night Mother said. A soft unearthly glow surrounded the body so I could make out her features. The Unholy Matron's eyeless gaze bore into me; they were judging and finding me unworthy. Her mental voice was slow and raspy as if she struggled for the air needed to speak. "_I told you to rebuild. In eight months, you have given me only two children. Two! There are many unclaimed kin in Tamriel. Why have you not brought them to me?"_

"I am sorry, Mother!" I stammered. "There's so much about the Brotherhood and the Old Ways that I do not know. I don't want to fail you by choosing poorly."

"_It would be preferable than nothing,"_ the Night Mother scowled. Her tone turned thoughtful. "_Normally, I would expect you to obtain advice from the Keeper or the Black Hand. I must admit that sweet Cicero is not the most reliable source for delicate matters. Very well. I will be merciful this time. I have a special contract for you._

"_Go to the Imperial City in Cyrodiil. Within the Imperial Prison far below the White Gold Tower, you will find the One-Eyed Orc Prisoner. Retrieve him and bring him before me. When you meet him, ask 'What is the color of the night?' and he will respond, 'Sanguine, my sister.' It will prove that you are my children and are trustworthy."_

"Thank you, Mother," I said making a small bow with my head. It was the most I could move.

"_I am not finished," _the Night Mother said sharply. "_You must achieve this goal before the tenth of Last Seed, the anniversary of the Emperor's death. If you wait until after, the prisoner will have been executed. You may take whomever you wish as assistance except loyal Cicero. He must remain here for this. You may not tell him your goal."_

I bit back the urge to ask why to her restrictions. You didn't ask the Night Mother why. You obeyed. The stone coffin swung open signaling my dismissal and I stepped back. At least I hadn't been roughly ejected like last time. I bowed. "As you command, my matron."

Cicero was waiting near the shrine. He was excited as he danced from one foot to the other. "What did Mother say?"

"I have a special job," I told him. I was busily calculating how much time I had. Last Seed would be next month, so I had about six weeks to get down to Cyrodiil, past the blockade of Jerall Mountain Pass, into the most heavily guarded city of the country and into the most heavily guarded prison to retrieve a prisoner whose name I didn't even know. Oh, not to mention that I had to bring the man, if my target was even male since Mother hadn't specified, back alive. Depending on how long he had been interred down there, he could be weak from lack of fresh air, exercise, and good food. That wasn't much time at all.

"Cicero, go rouse Babette. She needs to hear what I have to say," I said. Cicero scurried to obey. "Brothers and sisters," I called as I walked down the stone steps to the eating area. Nazir, Meena, and Aventus were already looking at me. They had noticed my interview with the Night Mother. "The Night Mother has summoned us once again."

Cicero returned with a sleepy eyed Babette. Everyone gathered around the dining table and sat solemnly as I spoke. "I must go to the Imperial City for a special mission. Nazir," I nodded to the Redguard, "I wish for you to accompany me."

"Why not loyal Cicero?" the Keeper complained. "Hecate always takes Cicero."

"There's no way we can get down there and back for you to take care of Mother," I explained trying to be mindful of Mother's command. "Your duties as Keeper must come first, brother." Cicero looked at me suspiciously for using the phrase brother. We hadn't treated each other as brother and sister for months now.

I looked at my family. With Nazir and me gone, who could I leave in charge? Meena? Cicero? I had to take Nazir; he was the one who was good with contacts and how to find the people you needed. He was calm and cool under pressure; I could rely on him no matter how insane things might get on this mission. I could go alone, but I immediately rejected that idea. I work best when I have someone to watch my back.

"Babette is in charge while we're gone," I said cringing. Meena flattened her ears. I guess she felt a little insulted that as the next adult she hadn't been chosen. In reality, Babette was more mature and experienced. She was my best bet at things not falling apart while I was gone. Thankfully, Cicero didn't seem to care. His only concern with leadership had been in Falkreath in convincing the others that following the Night Mother was the right thing to do. He had no personal interest in being in control.

"What?" Aventus asked shocked. "Why Babette? That doesn't even make sense. She's a kid like me." He glanced at the vampire girl.

"I don't have to explain myself, Aretino," I growled. Better to keep this short than try to rationalize. "I am sure none of you will make it difficult for our sister while I'm gone." The ragtag bunch nodded. "Good. Nazir, pack your things. We will ride out immediately."

"Why not book passage on a boat?" Nazir suggested. He knew the difference between questioning a command and supplementing an idea with better options. "It would be easier than trying to deal with the borders being closed. We could easily find a shipping boat in Solitude."

"Good idea, but we're on a time crunch. What's the fastest boat we could hope for?"

"Three weeks assuming fair weather and there is one ready to sail," Nazir admitted. "But we're still looking at least a week, maybe ten days, if we go by horse. There's a lot of roundabout terrain we'll have to deal with as well as the normal unpleasant random encounters one has to deal with on the road."

"You and I are stealthy enough we should be able to either avoid or outrun anything that may hassle us," I said. "Meet me by the horses within an hour." Nazir nodded and ran to his room. I think he was excited to be chosen for this trip. I liked the Redguard, but we rarely spent any time together. We didn't have much in common other than murder.

Cicero joined me as I walked to my room to gather my supplies for the trip. "Is this because of last night?" he asked quietly. "Is that why you don't want Cicero to go?"

After my meltdown from observing the torture of the nameless woman, Cicero had carried me to my room. After tucking me into my bed, he had climbed in and continued to rain butterfly kisses on my face. One of them had landed on my lips. My hands had snaked up and held Cicero for a firmer kiss.

"Is that what you want?" Cicero asked relieved to have some direction on how to fix things. My throat was still too locked up to speak so I had nodded against him. "Tell Cicero if he must stop."

I didn't. I let Cicero make love to me slow and gentle. I held his gaze the whole time watching his intense, sincere amber eyes. When my orgasm came, it was with a long sigh instead of my usual screaming. The tension leaving my body was a blessing.

I was curled up in Cicero's embrace with his lips on my hair, when he asked, "Better?"

"Yes," I managed to whisper.

"Thank, Sithis. Cicero was scared the Listener suddenly couldn't talk like Mother." Cicero hugged me. I looked at the dried blood splatters on his face. Part of me realized it was insane to find comfort in the man who had horrified me with his joy of torturing an unknown woman, but the other, louder half realized that Cicero was the only one I trusted enough to be vulnerable with which was its own kind of madness.

"It's not because of that," I assured him. I knew I didn't have to explain further. I had given a straight answer; it was good enough for Cicero.

"It's not safe in the Imperial City," Cicero said drawing me into a hug.

"I know," I said resting my head on his shoulder. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"As long as Nazir knows that if something happens to the Listener, then he should not come back," Cicero said with complete sincerity. The darkness in his tone sent a shiver down my spine.

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 8 Sun's Height 203 4E 1:00 PM<strong>

"We should reach the border in a few hours," Nazir said. "Any ideas of how we're going to get past the border guard?"

"No. My only thought is to scout and make it up as we go," I said sighing. I had thought about accessing one of my many hidden caches of septims. I have found gold makes many problems go away. Only the most honest of soldiers would not accept a small bribe to let two people cross the border. Especially since we were leaving and not coming in. As a Redguard and Imperial, it was unlikely we were spies for the xenophobic Rebels.

The problem is that much gold would make them remember us. And there was always the chance that the legate was either too honest to be bought or corrupt enough to take the money and send us to the executioner's block anyway.

That brought back unpleasant memories.

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 17 Last Seed 201 4E 12:00 PM<strong>

I fluttered awake to find myself in a wagon with three other men. One man was gagged and his hands bound behind his back. He looked like he was in his fifties. I could tell he wasn't a commoner; there was a sense of dignity about him despite being gagged. The rest of us had our hands bound before us. My head ached from where a soldier had clubbed me from behind. Ahead I could make out a small village with the Imperial banners flapping in the wind. Behind us was another wagon with more prisoners.

"You're awake," the blonde Nord to my left commented dryly. He looked like he was in his late twenties despite his cynical expression. "My name is Ralof. Not that it matters since we're all going to die soon."

Ralof calmly explained that he and the gagged man were part of the Stormcloak Rebellion and that his companion was in fact the leader, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Eastmarch. The third man was a horse thief named Lokir who had accidentally gotten caught in the Imperial trap set for the Stormcloaks.

"You're the reason I'm here," I hissed at the thief. "If you hadn't stolen my horse, I wouldn't have had to chase you."

"We're not part of their trouble," Lokir insisted. "They'll let us go. They have to."

I had been traveling the Pale Pass and had managed to stay away from any trouble since leaving Bravil two weeks earlier. I had stopped for lunch and was gathering water from a creek when I had heard my horse scream. I had run back to my small camp to see a man trying to mount my horse. "What in the Void do you think you're doing?" I had shouted. This was before I had devoured my first dragon soul and could so such things without the nasty drawbacks I would learn to hate.

"Oh, shit!" the man had yelled. Instead of trying to ride my mount away, he had elected to grab the reins and run deeper into the woods.

I had pursued and almost caught him when we hit a ledge. I had tripped into him and we had tumbled over the side. I vaguely remember seeing my poor horse's wide eyes as she fell to her doom. Lokir and I had rolled down the cliff and landed near some legionnaires. One young, eager overachiever had clubbed me unconscious before I could explain what had happened.

Ralof and Lokir had started to argue about the validity of the rebellion, but I tuned them out as I looked at Ulfric. He had an aura of charisma I had not seen in many people. He was riding to his death and he sat like a king on his throne. The world didn't touch Ulfric Stormcloak with its problems. Instead, Ulfric Stormcloak commanded the world.

I lost my breath when Ulfric turned towards me. His gray eyes were as cold as steel and just as unrelenting. A small nod acknowledged my presence before he turned back to whatever thoughts he had been contemplating moments before.

"Why is he gagged?" I asked Ralof gesturing to Ulfric. Ralof explained to me how Ulfric had mastered a power called the thu'um and could use his Voice to create great power. In fact, Ulfric had used it to duel the previous high king, Torygg. I was curious as to why Ulfric had dueled Torygg, but there was no time to ask.

The wagons stopped and the prisoners unloaded. Names were called from a list until all the prisoners were named but me. "She's not on the list," a young Imperial who had introduced himself as Hadvar said, pointing at me. He looked about Ralof's age.

"I don't care. It must be a clerical error," the captain of the guard snapped. She looked like a typical overworked superior who had enough authority to get unpleasant tasks done with not enough resources to do it well. "She goes with the rest of them. We can sort it out later."

"Hey!" I shouted. "That's total bullshit. You can't kill me for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm not with them either!" Lokir screamed, his eyes rolling around madly. "I…I gotta get out of here." The man made a run for it, but he didn't get a dozen paces before the Imperials peppered him with arrows.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the captain of the guard asked sarcastically. "I didn't think so."

"I'm sorry," the young man said. His eyes flickered away in shame. A soldier was taught to obey orders; to respect the chain of command at all times. It didn't mean he had to have pride in it. "I'll make sure your remains go back to Cyrodiil."

A priestess of Arkay stepped forward to give last blessings before the prisoners were beheaded, the favored method of execution of Imperials. We Imperials love a good beheading. It had all the showmanship of a hanging with the added spray of blood.

"I don't got all day, dammit," a rebel said disdainfully when the priestess mentioned the eight divines. The priestess walked away sniffing at the interruption. I doubted that the man would be mentioned in her prayers for the lost tonight. He proudly stepped forward to the chopping block. "My ancestors smile upon me, Imperial. Can you say the same for yours?"

The axe came down and the man's soul went to Sovngarde. The legate kicked the body over. "Next!"

"Any last words?" Hadvar asked gesturing for me to go next.

"Yes," I said stepping forward. "Fuck you guys." I ran towards Ulfric instead of stepping up to the block. I managed to grab his gag and pull it down. I was grateful those idiots had left the rest of us bound with our hands before us instead of behind like they had done with Ulfric. "You better use that damn Shout if you want to live."

Ulfric grinned at me. I found myself laughing back. He had a wolfish nature to him and was handsome for an oversized Nord. "**FUS RO DAH",** he Shouted, knocking several Imperial soldiers over.

I felt the world shake and heard a roar. "Gods, is that what your Shout does?" I asked.

"That wasn't me," Ulfric said looking to the sky. He had a pleasant deep voice. "It's a dragon!" I looked up and saw a huge black beast landing on the tower we were standing by.

_"Zu'u Alduin, zok sahrot do naan ko Lein!"_ the monster roared. It breathed in and released a blast of fire onto some legionnaires. They turned to ash. **"VOL!"**

"Lovely country you have here," I said sarcastically as Ulfric, Ralof and I ran into the relative safety of a tower.

"You should see us during the winter holidays," Ulfric shot back.

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 8 Sun's Height 203 4E 4:00 PM<strong>

"We could wait until midnight. Stealth with the shadows on our side," Nazir suggested.

"And lose eight hours of travel?" I countered. I hated having a time limit. The pressure made it more likely that you would make a stupid mistake. I don't have a lot of patience, but I prefer to know I could take my time if I wanted.

"Better that than our lives," Nazir snorted.

I could make out about ten legionnaires milling about the border. There were probably a few more inside the towers that flanked the narrow mountain pass into the Jerall Mountains. With three shifts around the clock, there were probably a total of about fifty Imperial soldiers.

"We should have brought Meena to use as a distraction and left her behind," I thought out loud.

"My grandmother used to say 'wish in one hand, shit in the other and see which one fills first,'" Nazir said.

"Sounds like a wise woman," I laughed. "We might as well settle down and wait for a pattern to emerge." A small campsite was made. The two of us would take turns resting so we could travel tonight. Shadowmere had no problem traveling by moonlight.

"I hate to ask this," Nazir said, "but is there anything specific I need to know about your past before we get into Cyrodiil?"

"Probably," I said lying down on my sleeping furs. "I'll let you know when it comes up."

* * *

><p><strong>Tirdas 9 Sun's Height 203 4E 12:00 AM<strong>

Here's the funny thing about being an assassin. The best laid plans are boring as hell to retell. It's what you prayed for when you planned for your target.

When midnight came, Nazir lead his horse off the path a bit. We had already removed the saddle and bridle and hidden them for retrieval when we returned. The Redguard slapped the horse's flank sending it crashing through the forest. The two of us scurried off to the side while the Imperial soldiers came down to investigate the noise.

With over half of the soldiers trying to figure out what caused the loud noises, Nazir and I stayed to the shadows and managed to stealth pass the garrison. Once we were clear of view, I summoned Shadowmere again.

Nazir and I doubled up on the demon horse and rode into the night using only the red light of the mare's eyes to see.

Boring and exactly how I like it.

* * *

><p><strong>Fredas 26 Sun's Height 203 4E 8:00 PM<strong>

"I am so glad I didn't kill you," I said to Amaund Motierre. I had not had the privilege of meeting the man before. In Volunruud, Motierre's contacts had been Arnbjorn and Veezara. Strictly speaking, I should have been the one to make contact, but I had been sick from Cicero's beating and infection from a poisoned arrow. The second time Nazir had met Motierre in the Bannered Mare to confirm that we had completed the contract for the Emperor's death.

The Breton gaped at me in surprise. He had just entered his personal chambers in the White Gold Tower and had been ready to relax for the night. Motierre was not prepared for a shrouded armored woman wearing a cowl to be reclining in his favorite chair. Motierre was in his late thirties; old enough to be experienced politician but young enough to be ambitious. Even ambitious to plot murder. He was handsome enough, but the rich always can afford to be with their fine clothes and pampered lifestyles. I didn't like his arrogant scowl or the way his nose pinched as if he smelled something unpleasant.

"The Emperor asked me to, you know," I said nonchalantly as I played with a dagger. I made sure the steel flashed in the candlelight as much as possible. "He wanted for me to kill the man who ordered his death. Old Titus had no clue who it was, but he knew I could find him and hunt him to the ends of Nirn if I wanted."

"That is a thousand septim chair made of the finest satin and mahogany. Must you have your dirty boots splayed against it?" Motierre sneered. Clearly he was not as concerned about his safety as I wanted him. I lightly tapped my boots against the side of the chair before standing up. Just to prove a point, mind you.

"I need something," I said.

"I owe you nothing, assassin," Motierre walked so a personal dining table was between the two of us. He might not be showing fear, but he wasn't stupid either. Good. I like working with smart men better than stupid ones. Stupid people tend to think short term and react from emotions. Smart men understand that sometimes the long game is more important. "We had a deal and I kept my end of the bargain."

"I know," I said pacing along the table forcing Motierre to keep moving if he wanted to stay away from me. "But times have changed and I would like to propose a new deal. The Brotherhood needs a prisoner released from the Imperial prison. As a member of the Elder Council, you have the ability to issue a pardon. Especially since the country is under martial law with the Emperor dead and no successor."

"What prisoner do you need released? I will not make any promises, but I must admit that my curiosity is piqued."

"An orc with one eye," I responded. There were many times I wished the Night Mother would address people by name instead of just general descriptors. This was one of them.

"Oh no, not that one," Motierre said a little too quickly. "There is no way I could possibly have my name associated with that one." I wondered why Motierre knew the prisoner personally. There had been no hesitation when I gave a description and no name.

"There's no price too high," I offered carefully as I leaned on the table like Astrid used to do. Blank check is always a touchy offer. It's a clear sign of desperation and often you get a ridiculously high counter bid. I only make this offer when I sincerely mean no price is too high.

"No deal," Motierre countered. Still no hesitation. Who in the Void was our target?

"Let me put it this way. You cannot say no. You're going to help the Brotherhood or there will be death," I said.

"We had a deal!" Motierre said shrilly.

"I know and I respect that. Please believe me when I say I won't kill you," I said. I stood up with my hands held high to show no ill intent. Motierre sighed in relief. "But that doesn't mean I won't kill lots of people who are your enemies."

Motierre snorted with laughter. It was rather unrefined and made me suspect that he did not come from old money. "You…you are actually threatening me by removing my enemies? You're not very good with this, are you?"

"I know politics just fine," I said narrowing my eyes. "I make a long enough trail of bodies; the Penitus Oculatus will have to investigate. And your name will turn up as a suspect time and time again. Do you really want the personal guard of the Emperor to have their attention on you? With no charge to be responsible for, they have nothing but time. Someone had to order the hit on the Emperor who was killed by the Dark Brotherhood. Won't it seem strange that all these other politicians are being killed by the Brotherhood too? Wouldn't it be terrible if the Dark Brotherhood had made residence here in the Imperial City itself?"

I jumped onto a chair and launched myself onto the table. I skidded across the surface until I collided with Motierre. The two of us fell to the ground with me straddling the courtier. I slammed my dagger into the ground next to his head. "My blade is very thirsty, Motierre." I listed several families who had grudges with Motierre's. I made sure to name people who were only barely connected to him, close enough for him to recognize but not common enough anyone could know the information. Nazir had been very busy the last two weeks digging up dirt on Amaund. "I'll mow every last one of them down until I get what I want."

"I cannot release that prisoner!" Motierre said. Tears streamed down his face. The fear was in his eyes now. "I swear by the Eight I cannot! If my name was attached to his it would ruin me forever. All my planning would be for nothing. Surely you must understand that. But I can give you something else. Something just as good."

"I'm listening," I said.

"There's an old secret entrance. Not been used in centuries. The Blades used to maintain it for emergencies. With them gone, no one has thought of it for a long time. I know. I could give you directions for where it comes out by the lake. You could go in yourself and get your man."

"How do I know you won't betray us? Show us the door and then make sure an entire legion is there waiting for us?" I glared.

"Believe it or not, I am an honorable man. I keep my deals. I like having good relations with people who understand that too." Motierre was sweating heavily. He was having trouble breathing with me sitting on his chest. "I didn't betray you before. I could have had someone at the blind drop to kill your man. I could have betrayed you in the Bannered Mare. I just want to help my country and the old man was in the way of that. With the Elder Council in control, we can gain the people's trust back. Too many people of the Empire hated Titus for giving in to the Altmer's demands. We can forge a new strength and image they can rally behind. Please, you have to believe me."

"I believe you," I said after a small pause. Hell, I must have from the beginning or I wouldn't have come here to begin with. "Tell me about this entrance." I got up and offered Motierre a hand up. He accepted. The Breton gathered some parchment and a quill from his desk and sketched where the entrance was.

"Pleasure doing business with you," I said smiling as I tucked the paper into my belt pouch. I walked over to the open bay doors. I threw on leg over the edge. "I'm glad I didn't kill Rexus. I'm sure you were wondering why he wasn't in here kicking my ass. You'll find him naked and tied up in your room." Laughing at Motierre's disgusted expression; I threw myself out of the window. I used the Spectral Form Shout and safely landed on the street below.

It was time to meet up with Nazir and continue with the next stage of our plan. We had two weeks left to work.


	9. The Prisoner

**Middas 7 Last Seed 203 4E 11:00 PM**

The last two weeks in the Imperial City had been spent finding out about our target and slowly scouting the secret entrance Motierre gave us. It looked like Motierre had kept his word about not alerting the guards about the Brotherhood's intent because we had not seen hide or hair of the Imperial Legion near the secret door that lead out near the southern side of the lake.

The Imperial capital was located on a large island in the middle of Lake Rumare. There was only one bridge that connected it to the main land. Its primary landmark is the White Gold Tower, a tower that can be seen for miles away and was originally built by the Ayleid, the Heartland high elves. Its original intent was for the Temple of the Ten Ancestors, but since Alessia's time has been used as the Imperial Palace.

The city itself was divided up into six districts. Starting northeast and going clockwise they are Market, Arena, Arboretum, Temple, Plaza, and Elven Gardens District. The city also hosted an arcane university and the waterfront harbors. There was very little that was not either provided or could be made available in the capital.

Nazir and I had been staying in the Tiber Septim Inn located in the Plaza District. A long time ago the Plaza district had been called the Talos Plaza District, but the name was changed with the signing of the White-Gold Concordat. The Plaza District was for only the wealthiest families and the Tiber Septim was a high quality inn with rates four times higher than your average inn. Nazir had been outraged at the cost, but I convinced him it was worth the extra rate.

I prefer high class accommodations over poorer ones. For one thing, guards tended to have a better eye on the lowlife part of towns. They noticed when strangers came into town and started talking to all the usual contacts. You also had to deal with your standard cutthroats and thieves. Everyone was suspicious of everyone else and on the guard for someone to backstab them. In better parts of town, the staff had learned that money meant eccentricity so if you wanted to run around all hours of the night everyone turned their head the other way. If no one acknowledged your poor behavior, then it does not reflect poorly on others.

The wealthy have cultivated the skill of being blind to an art.

Nazir couldn't find out much about our prisoner. The man had been in there for over a decade. He had no apparent friends or family for he never received visitors. Except for Motierre who had made some discrete visits last year in the spring. That explained why Motierre with no prompting knew who I had wanted.

Several prisoners, all lifers, were going to be executed on the anniversary of the Emperor's death as a protest and to rally the people's support. Hopefully it would help raise morale so the Empire could finally put together the support to take Skyrim back under its control and end this drawn out rebellion. The Elder Council was ready to show that a group of elected men could lead better than one hereditary leader.

As far as I was concerned, the Civil War was going exactly how I had hoped. When spring came, Ulfric had returned to Windhelm so he could focus on the political aspect of the war. He was much too high ranked and important to be on the battlefield and had only joined his men against Whiterun as a symbol of his dedication. Ulfric was a big fan of symbolism.

That wasn't strange. It also was not odd that Galmar Stone-Fist, Ulfric's eternal right hand man, had returned with Ulfric to the Eastmarch. However, it was odd that the "Dragonborn" had returned with them. She should have been Ulfric's general on the battlefield leading the charge with her thu'um. Instead she was safely sequestered behind the stone wall of the Palace of Kings. There had been no reports of her using her Shouts during her time on the battlefield for Whiterun.

There were rumors that Ulfric's Dragonborn might be a fake. Not that the noble, honorable Ulfric would ever knowingly support such a thing, but maybe whoever it was had killed the real Dragonborn and stolen her identity. There wasn't much information about her. She was of average height, with dark shoulder-length hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. Nothing physically made her stand out.

The biggest conflict was that this Dragonborn was a Nord while early rumors had said the Dragonborn was an Imperial proving her lineage to the old Septim bloodline. One could prove that the Dragonborn was a "true daughter" of Skyrim by either being born Nord or sharing the blood of Tiber Septim and many drunken brawls had erupted from the debating.

I was pleased with the rumors and confident that by next year the fake Dragonborn would be gone. I didn't care if she just disappeared one day or if Ulfric decided to be assertive and display her head on a spike before his castle for her treachery. To be done with the matter was all that mattered to me.

I couldn't let that distract me right now. That was a world away and could wait until I returned to Sanctuary. I was just relieved that Mother hadn't reprimanded me for that. Or my bizarre relationship with Cicero. I wasn't sure exactly how literally she saw the Brotherhood as her children. I remembered that Astrid and Arnbjorn had been married and Gabriella had a very casual sexual relationship with Nazir and Veezara. But they hadn't exactly followed the Old Ways, had they?

Were we committing some sort of spiritual incest? Surely Mother would have said something before things had progressed too far, right? But Mother believed in letting her children make their mistakes and learn from them instead of constantly meddling in our affairs.

None of that mattered right now. Right now I had to focus on getting Mother's approval back by claiming this orc. I couldn't stand the thought of not hearing her voice full of motherly love for her daughter. I was the big sister that could be depended upon to take care of the little ones. If I couldn't, then I feared I would not hear her voice again.

I was full of curiosity about this orc too. Why would Mother request to save a soul instead of sending it to the Dread Lord? To have been in the prisons for so long, he must have done something atrocious, but not bad enough for immediate death. It was possible they suspected him of a larger crime, but had only arrested him for a smaller one which allowed them to hold him but not prosecute.

I wished we had more time to plan and study. As long as I feel like I'm busy, I'll take as much time as I think I need to do a job well. You usually get one chance to do your job in our line of work. Failure didn't always result in death, but loss of prestige and reputation was sometimes worse than failure. If you died it was easier for others to shrug their shoulders and say that the other guy was better. Living through a botched job carried more of a sense of incompetence.

"Are you ready?" Nazir asked. He had been checking the rowboat we had purchased almost three weeks ago that was hidden under some brush for any possible leaks. I nodded.

It was time.

The iron barred door was long rusted from disuse. I kicked it hating the ruckus it created, but I was confident that we were far enough from anything that no one else would hear. Nazir lit a torch and we proceeded inward.

Torches are a mixed blessing. They provided light and warmth, but they also make you easy targets for anything that is hiding in the darkness. Assassins have to develop excellent night vision to survive and the best often find artificial light to be more detrimental than the dark since it could blind you. Khajiit are natural thieves because of their inherent low-light vision. They can pull in more light from the moon or stars and see clearer than men and mer.

Normally I would just trust the light of the stars that dotted the void of the night sky. But we were going into a stone tunnel and there would be no light in there. Nazir and I had scouted this part of the route multiple times. It was completely unused. I hadn't even found the bones of rats down there.

Once we had reached the last stretch of the unused area, Nazir left the torch in an ancient wall sconce. We would leave it burning as a landmark for our return trip. It was time to get used to the dark again. Dark areas that were currently in use, even those underground, always have some source of light available. People were not meant to walk in the complete void of darkness. It was too scary and lonely.

It was another thing that set assassins apart.

I comfortably slid my booted feet along the smooth stone floor. I could feel Nazir behind me, but there was not a single sound from the Redguard. Ahead I could hear a man coughing while another paced his patrol. A third was sleeping by a small table that held platters of cold food.

The patroller was directly between us and the next section. I waited a few minutes watching his pattern. When he was hidden by a pillar, I quickly dashed so I was on the other side of him. Watching the shadows of his torch, I paced opposite of him until I could go down the next corridor. Nazir did the same thing and we were off to the next part.

This continued until we came to a false wall, another tidbit Motierre had included in his information. Nazir entered the proper sequence for the hidden puzzle lock while I watched with my bow drawn for guards. The wall slid silently away revealing a hidden corridor. The ancients sure did know how to build to last.

After we entered, Nazir closed the secret door. I put my bow away and drew another torch. We were in completely uncharted territory. It had been easy to scout the unused area and to even stalk the guards, but there had been no time to get into this last area and check it. The light threw shadows everywhere making my already on-edge nerves scream danger.

About fifty feet in, the corridor opened into a large room. I looked down and found a long-dead skeleton at my feet. His armor reminded me of Delphine's Blades armor, the mark of the ancient protectors of the Emperor—until they had failed to protect Uriel Septim from the Mythic Dawn cult two hundred years ago. It was said Uriel had been slain while trying to flee the Imperial City. Had this been one of his men who had fallen in vain trying to protect his lord?

At the far end, up a short flight of stairs was our exit. I pulled on a chain and the wall slid away to reveal a jail cell. I left the torch in the secret tunnel and stepped out. Nazir followed once again closing the wall behind us. We didn't want to risk a guard noticing the light.

I was ready to kill however many people necessary to complete this mission. The problem is that guards are very good at yelling for reinforcements and once you alerted one guard then you've alerted all of them. In the middle of the Imperial city, I feared there could be literally hundreds of guards breathing down our necks. I didn't like those odds.

I picked the lock to our cell. There were no guards down here. They would be up the stairs in their barracks talking, laughing, drinking and all the little things people do when they have to pass the time over and over again without anything ever happening. All of their eyes were turned outward for danger. Why would they need to fear from the inside?

The thing I always thought was interesting about night time security is that it's where you find your green recruits. Young and eager to prove themselves recruits with no field experience are given the dullest shift. The leaders are burnt out gruff men who are thinking of how they would like to spend the rest of their days before a fire drinking mead and wine but not quite ready to lose their status as men by retiring.

It always felt foolish to me. If there is going to be a jailbreak or theft or assassination, it is going to come in the middle of the night. You don't plan those jobs during the middle of the day when everyone is awake and aware. You wait until the witching hour when all good souls are tucked away in their beds dreaming of better days. So why does every country time and time again put their worst men on these shifts? If you really care about your charge, then you put reliable, tested men on that duty and leave the incompetents for a shift where they can get back up easily.

Still, it worked in my favor so I doubt I'll lobby a complaint.

I looked into the first cell and saw a bosmer. Not my concern, so I went down the line until I could see the back of an orc. His head was in shadow. I rattled the door to wake him. When he sat up, the empty socket where his right eye used to be glared back at me. It was like someone had carved away part of his face and left the Void behind. Prison life had not been kind; the orc looked ancient.

"What is the color of the night?" I asked quietly.

"Sanguine, my sister," he rasped. "By Sithis, she heard me. After all this time, the Night Mother answered my prayers." The orc stood slowly; his mobility hampered by the heavy chains securing his hands and feet.

"Nazir, this is the one we want," I said nodding at the door. The Redguard was on watch for any movement from above. I bent to work on the lock. I lost several lockpicks, but I've always found the puzzle of the tumbler fascinating. Whenever I felt rushed or frustrated, I would stop, breathe until my heartbeat calmed, and slowly continue again. In time, I beat the puzzle and opened the door.

"Who are you?" the orc asked candidly.

"Hecate," I said simply. "We'll talk more once I get you out of these."

"It's been so long since I talked to anyone. The guards leave me alone mostly now, but there are a few young pups who think they can get away with tormenting an old orsimer. Last real conversation I had was with that asshole Motierre. He wanted to know more about the Black Sacrament. I told him what he wanted to know. I figured it was the least I could do to help the Brotherhood by directing a client who wanted the Emperor dead. He didn't say directly, but I figured it out. I haven't been out of the game so long I can't tell when a person isn't saying something."

I smiled to myself as I listened to the old mer ramble. Why was it I was drawn time and time again to people who hadn't been able to talk freely for a long, long time? The Graybeards, Paarthurnax, the Night Mother, and Cicero to name a few. Now this orc.

"Cheydinhal Sanctuary fell a few years ago, so I knew only the Sanctuary left was in Skyrim. I made sure to suggest to Motierre that he perform the Black Sacrament up there and to wait however long he had to. Without the Night Mother to inform us of the Black Sacrament, we used to go to the streets for contracts. I could only guess our Skyrim cousins were doing the same thing. I remember when we figured it would be only for a few months, but when the years stretched…." he trailed off in thought.

"Wait. Us?" I stopped working on the manacles. "Who are you?"

"My name is Garnag," the orc smiled broadly, "and I'm a Dark Brotherhood assassin."

Dear gods, this was the one Cicero had mentioned who had disappeared one day. A brother from the old days when they not only followed the Tenets, but they honestly believed in them. The Night Mother had answered more than just Garnag's prayers.

"My name is Hecate," I said standing. I offered my brother my hand. Garnag took it readily and allowed me to help him up. "And I am the Listener."

"Dear Sithis," Garnag gasped. He knelt with his head bowed. "You managed to save the Night Mother's body? She speaks again?"

"This is all very moving, but can't we do it some place more secure?" Nazir interrupted. "Shift change is going to happen soon and it's standard procedure to check the inmates at that time."

"Change in plan, Nazir," I said coming to a decision. Motierre had said they were going to execute the prisoners as a protest to the Emperor's death. If they came in and discovered Garnag gone, they would launch an investigation to find him. They knew he was a Brotherhood assassin and would be sure to parade that fact to its utmost effect. "Are there any other older male orcs here?" I asked Garnag. He nodded and pointed to a cell.

"Nazir, open all of the cells. Release all of the prisoners. Encourage them to riot," I commanded as I strode to the cell Garnag indicated. Both of my brothers went to work to follow my command. I got past the lock for the orc prisoner. He looked up at me with gratitude. It didn't last long when I sank my blade into his gut. I followed with cutting his face to destroy the right eye. It wouldn't pass at close inspection, but if the body was trampled in the stampede and the guards were only aware of a one-eyed orc then no one would know the difference.

I dragged the body out into the hallway. I added my voice to the others, "Down with the oppressors! For freedom! Down with the Thalmor! Down with the Elder Council!" The prisoners were weak from lack of fresh air and exercise, but hope is a terrible weapon in the hands of the desperate. Many of these men were Nords and they would rather die in battle than on their knees. Garnag and Nazir waited in the cell with the secret exit while the other prisoners surged forth for revenge and freedom.

"Now we leave," I said calmly. I gestured for the other two to help me kick in the head of the dead orc to help cover up his identity better. There would be no guards to avoid on the way out now. We were going home.

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 28 Last Seed 203 4E 5:00 PM<strong>

The last three weeks had been spent aboard a cargo ship headed to Solitude. I had been forced to pay extra for the fact we were living cargo, but coin is the best diplomacy and we were given privacy.

I pondered about how it seemed I constantly left chaos in my wake. How much did my dragon soul dominate my life and choices? Was it choice or fate that decided I would create havoc wherever I went? The Imperial City had taken a lot of damage from the riot. The prisoners had managed to swarm over the unprepared guards and take the Imperials' weapons for their own. Once on the streets they had destroyed street carts and décor in their wake. Some of the downtrodden in the waterfront had joined in. For centuries the poor and destitute had lived there in the shadow of luxury and they had had enough too.

I had spent most of my days interviewing Garnag. He told me much about his time as an assassin. I had felt sheepish to find out that the traditional method of recruiting was very simple. Wait for a rumor of a ruthless killer, find him, and offer the chance to join after doing a job. Probably the only thing Astrid had not changed in her bid for power.

"How did you ever get the Night Mother from Bravil by yourself?" I asked.

"Telekinesis, sister," Garnag laughed. He made some mystical gestures and a book from across the room flew into his hands. "The Night Mother was heavy, so I couldn't do it for very long. But all I needed was to move her to the wagon and that only took a few seconds."

A spellcaster too. By the gods, the Night Mother had been merciful in sending us on this mission. The orc's specialization was alteration, but he was also trained in illusion. Two schools much better suited to the life of the assassin than dear, old Festus Krex's love of destruction magic.

As we entered Sanctuary, Garnag asked, "However did you find the Night Mother? What made you look in Cheydinhal? I am surprised that she wasn't desecrated when the Sanctuary fell."

"The Keeper brought her to Skyrim. To this very Sanctuary actually," I said. I was going to continue, but Garnag's look of surprise stopped me. "What?"

"Chickpea is alive?" the orc asked.

At that moment, Cicero walked by with a bowl of flowers freshly picked from Babette's garden for the Night Mother's shrine. "Listener, Nazir" he said nodding at us, "Garnag." The jester paused. He slowly turned towards our prodigal brother. The bowl fell from his listless hands. "Garnag!"

Cicero flung himself into Garnag's arms. The two of them hugged each other as if they were drowning and the only thing saving them was each other. "Why were you gone for so long?" Cicero wailed. "Cicero waited and waited and waited and you never came back!"


	10. Chickpea

**Middas 28 Last Seed 203 4E 5:00 PM**

I smiled as I watched Cicero and Garnag hugging. Two brothers at long last reunited. I remembered how Nazir had heard that our prisoner had been in the Imperial prison for over a decade. It gave me a better idea of exactly how long Cicero had been alone with the Night Mother in Cheydinhal Sanctuary. Little wonder our jester was so strange.

"_Present my son to me, daughter,"_ the Night Mother's voice filled my mind. I was tickled to hear the pleased tone in her voice.

"Garnag, Mother wishes to see you," I informed the orc. Cicero and he have one arm around the other laughing merrily. They had been bombarding each other with questions when I interrupted them.

"Of course, apologies, Listener," Garnag said.

"Ooooh, foolish Cicero was inconsiderate to Mother! Of course, of course Mother should see Garnag first," the Keeper was flustered for once and I laugh as he jumped around nervously full of energy.

The older orc and I approached the coffin. It was standing open showing Mother in her terrible beauty. A dozen candles on the shrine lit the coffin causing shadow to flicker over her face. The smell of fresh nightshade wafted up clogging my nose. Garnag immediately showed reverence by kneeling in supplication. I started to follow, but a tug in my mind held me short.

"I am to speak for Mother. The words I utter are her words," I reported a little surprised. Any commands in the past were always given to me and then I was to repeat them in my own way afterwards. This is the closest Mother has spoken directly to anyone other than myself.

"'Ah, the prodigal son returns. I am pleased that you have returned safely to our home, my son. You are to advise the Listener with your knowledge of the Old Ways. Teach her of how we lived before the Sanctuaries fell. In return, you have been forgiven and the price has been paid for your crime.'"

"Thank you, Mother. I rejoice that you grace us with your wisdom once again. You will not be disappointed," Garnag said. His eyes were carefully lowered so as to not stare at the Night Mother.

"'You are dismissed. Meet your new brothers and sisters. Celebrate for you have been born again in blood and shadow,'" I uttered. I felt a chill as I repeated the Night Mother's words as if she was truly moving through me instead of me being the one speaking.

Assuming I had also been dismissed, I started to follow Garnag, but Mother's words stopped me short. "_Tell loyal Cicero that he is also forgiven,"_ the Night Mother stated. I could feel her attention on the Keeper who was busy laughing with the others over something someone said. A wave of love from the Night Mother went toward him and I felt overwhelmed with jealousy.

I've never begrudged Cicero's relationship with the Night Mother. I realized that they had been together a very long time and he was completely dedicated to her. If I felt that I came second to his goddess, what was wrong with that? If Cicero had not been so loyal and steadfast, then I never would have become the Listener. Of everyone, I was the only one who could possibly understand the sheer love the Unholy Matron had to give for her children.

But when I sensed Mother's love for her favorite son, pure and unrestrained, in that moment, I saw red. I had been the one who had obeyed her command. I was the one who had to travel for over nine weeks away from Sanctuary and home to deal with Stormcloaks, Imperials, and bandits to retrieve her lost son. I was the one who had struggled to regain her favor and instead it was given to her preferred son.

I stifled a squall of protest. I sometimes worried exactly how much access to my mind the Night Mother had. Could she only sense thoughts directed towards her, could she sense surface thoughts, or could she see into the very depths of my mind? No daughter should have to suffer for her mother to have that much access, but what could I do? One does not say no to the Night Mother.

I bowed indicating my obedience and was finally dismissed. I joined the others, but my joy was diminished. It was like coming to a grand feast with all your favorite food cooked to perfection, but finding a fly in your soup. Not enough to ruin the meal completely but still annoying enough that you can't enjoy it as much as you should have.

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 28 Last Seed 203 4E 11:00 PM<strong>

"I cannot believe how different he is," Garnag said nodding towards Cicero. The jester was goofing off with Aventus and Babette. The trio was laughing hysterically as the two smaller assassins chased Cicero who was holding a plate of candy high above his head.

Garnag, Nazir, and I were sitting around the table enjoying a bottle of Imperial wine I had bought while in Cyrodiil. In fact I had bought an entire crate before leaving the homeland. I figured I had paid enough for cargo space on the boat that I might as well use it, and Imperial vintage was getting harder and harder to find with the rebellion stretching on.

"In what way?" I ask. I had been quiet most of the night. We are celebrating a brother joining our ranks, but in a more subdued manner than our last two recruits. Maybe it is because Garnag was older or maybe it was because he was already a brother who was lost not just found, but the mood was different.

I suspected much had happened the two months Nazir and I have been gone. I can tell there is a space between Aventus and Babette that wasn't there before. I haven't seen Meena yet; she was out when we returned. Cicero is Cicero, joyful and strange.

"Chickpea used to be very quiet. Very serious and solemn too. I think the sisters found it strangely alluring since it made him very mysterious," Garnag said after thinking a moment. "He never lacked for company at night."

"Did you hear that, Nazir?" I grinned. "Cicero used to be quiet!"

"Ugh, by Sithis, why couldn't he have stayed that way?" Nazir lamented as he downed his glass.

"What else?" I urged Garnag on. I always craved more information about Cicero's past. I knew on some level it was strange to wonder who he used to be when the Fool of Hearts only lived in the now, but as Garnag said the mystery was part of the allure.

"I remember when he joined us in Cheydinhal. Burma had fallen and he was the only sibling to make it out alive. We only called him Cicero then, the nickname would come later. But we all swarmed around him and welcomed. We were glad at least someone survived the destruction."

There went my theory that Cicero had been the jester's name, stolen like the rest of his identity by the Keeper. I was intrigued to find out that Cicero was not originally from Cheydinhal. He had never mentioned Burma, a Nordic settlement in northern Cyrodiil so I assumed Cheydinhal had always been his home.

"He was friendly enough. A person always felt welcome with Chickpea. You'd come in from a contract and his face would light up, especially if you had been gone a long time. If you told about your kill, it was like you were the only person in the world.

"Chickpea kept to himself though. He would sit in a corner writing in his journal while the rest of us would sit around drinking and bullshitting. Sometimes someone would drag him over to join us, but when he did Chickpea would just mostly watch the rest of us. I don't think I ever heard him laugh. A small smile or maybe a light chuckle, but never a full gut busting laugh."

"I don't understand why you called him Chickpea," Nazir admitted as he filled everyone's cups. "It is a type of bean common in Imperial dishes, right?"

Garnag and I laughed. "It's a type of linguistic joke," I explained. "It's what Cicero's name would mean if you translated it. Kind of how your name would mean 'helper' or Babette's would mean 'my god is my oath.'"

"And what would your name mean, Listener?" Nazir asked politely.

"It's a complicated name," I admitted. "It belonged to an ancient goddess of Cyrodiil, from before people turned to the Divines. She was a goddess of magic, crossroads, and the moon." I had mostly taken the name for the connections with the moon. Diana, my old name, had also been a goddess of the moon and I had always felt the connection. To be the wanderer, traveler, and hunter always following the path of the moon owing nothing to any man was the life I wanted. Eternal virgin, yet motherly at the same time. That goddess had been a contradiction comfortable with being true to her own self.

"Oh, so much more than that!" Cicero popped up behind me. I barely managed to not spill my drink from jumping in surprise. It felt like any time I took my eye off the Keeper, he was springing up from behind me. "Darkness, blood, and secrets too! Sharp, sharp daggers for rituals of sacrifice. Maiden, mother, and crone was three-faced Hecate." Cicero cackled at his own cleverness.

"Join us, brother," Garnag said. "We were just talking about you."

"Talking about humble Cicero? Then I must stay lest you all slander the Fool of Hearts' good name," Cicero flopped into a seat. He refused Garnag's offer of wine.

"I was just going to tell them about when Rasha made you Keeper," Garnag said. "The Black Hand had convened the night before and taken a vote. When the old cat put his arm around Chickpea and told him the good news, I thought his face was going to fall off from how hard his jaw dropped. 'Oh, not me, there must be some mistake. I'm not worthy.'" The orc laughed at the memory.

"Oh, yes, dear old Rasha," Cicero drawled. There was an undertone and the way he looked at Garnag when he said it seemed dark. Garnag got the same vibe because he immediately shut up. There was a look of guilt on Garnag's face.

I frowned at the interaction. I had not had a chance to give Cicero Mother's message yet. I felt she had meant for it to be private and would tell him when I had a chance. Yet, what could the two of them have done that required forgiveness?

"I'm hoooooooome!" Meena's shrill voice could be heard at the top of the stairs. I could hear a series of thuds as she fell down them.

"By Mara," I muttered. "Garnag, that's our last sister, Meena. I hope you like Khajiit." I got up to go check on her to make sure she hadn't broken anything. One could hope though.

"Oh, you're home," Meena looked at me with one eye shut as if she was winking. She smelled strongly of mead. "Meena celebrated her contract before coming home. Everyone was boring with Hecate and Nazir gone. Little kids cannot drink and stupid Keeper wouldn't." She wobbled to her feet. "How did your contract go?" I always that it was funny that Meena stayed more or less the same level of coherent drunk as when she was sober. Only catnip made her completely incomprehensible.

I offered Meena a hand to steady her. She leaned into me and nuzzled the side of my face with her muzzle. "I love you!" the Khajiit declared drunkenly.

"Sigh, I love you too, sister," I started dragging her to the Initiate's room. "I think it's bed time for you."

"No! I just got here, you got here, Nazir got here, that one other guy just got here," Meena pointed to Garnag. "Hello, new person!" Meena turned towards me, "He's with us right?"

"Yes." I refrained from groaning. It felt like the only time I really interacted with Meena she was off her mind from one reason or another. I didn't know enough Khajiit to know if this was standard for them or if it was another reason she was a social outcast.

"I'm a kitty!" Meena explained as she curled up next to Garnag. "You remind of this orc I met in Cidhna Mine. Oh, he was so hot with being shirtless and chiseled abs."

"Unfortunately, I'm neither of those," Garnag said repressing a chuckle.

"I wanted his babies," Meena said solemnly. "I mean to have, not eat. This one was never into cannibalism. Tried it once, but didn't really see the appeal. Although there were a lot of interesting people from Markarth at that feast. Old priest got to be the guest of honor. And by guest of honor, Meena means that he was the main course."

"Okay, I'm going to bed," I said standing quickly. This conversation had just gotten way too bizarre for me. "Still recovering from my long journey and I could use the rest."

"Garnag, why don't you take Cicero's room?" the Keeper offered. "As a veteran it doesn't seem appropriate to put you with the initiates. At least until we can figure out better accommodations."

"I couldn't possibly take your room," Garnag replied. "Besides, I wouldn't mind the company. So many years alone in a ten by ten room makes it so one craves the company of others."

"Cicero understands," the jester said completely serious for once.

* * *

><p><strong>Turdas 29 Last Seed 203 4E 1:00 AM<strong>

I was lying on my bed reading when Cicero came into my room. "What do you want?" I snapped as I closed my book. I was never going to finish it at this point. After two months of neglect I barely remembered who was who and what their goals were.

"Cicero thought the Listener looked tense tonight," the Keeper said. He walked in without being invited and sat on the edge of the bed. Leaning over and rubbing my shoulders, Cicero said, "I thought I could help you relax."

"I'm not in the mood," I growled moving away. I'm always unreasonably bitchy when I'm tired and I was still resentful of Mother's affection for Cicero earlier.

"Did Cicero do something wrong?" he asked confused by my actions.

When I was putting Aventus to bed, Garnag had come into the Initiate's room to pick out a bed. I had made the mistake of asking the old orc, "By the way, I didn't get to ask earlier, but who was Alisanne Dupre?"

"Your predecessor," Garnag had replied while he placed fresh sheets on the cot. "How did you know her name?"

"Cicero had mentioned her," I said a little stunned. I had never really given thought to who the old Listener had been.

"I'm not surprised," Garnag smiled. "I think Chickpea was a little in love with her. He stood in awe of her when she came to visit Rasha and asked all sorts of questions about her when she left. Listener Alisanne was a fine, noble woman. I'm ashamed I wasn't able to save her when the Night Mother's crypt was finally infiltrated. Poor woman burned alive in mage fire."

Would I always be in the shadow of the Listener?

Between that little enlightening tidbit and my earlier jealousy, I was in no mood to be around Cicero. The jester, on the other hand, clearly wanted to spend time with me. Despite my clear body language that I wanted to be left alone, he stayed on the edge of the bed watching me. Golden eyes begged me to tell him what was wrong and how he could fix it.

After a few moments, I realized I wasn't going to be able to concentrate on reading. I put the book on a shelf and then moved to my wardrobe to change to my bedclothes. I was still wearing my shrouded leather armor. I probably should have changed out of it earlier, but you get used to the skin tight leather like a second skin and although it constricted I sometimes forgot I was wearing it instead of normal clothes.

I pulled out my gown and felt a presence behind me. I turned around and sure enough there was Cicero right behind me. He had no sense of personal space and often would get right behind me almost pushing me against stuff at times.

"Why don't you leave?" I said pushing Cicero back.

"What is your problem?" Cicero countered shoving back. I loved that he was reacting to me instead of just quietly accepting my attitude. It proved that he wasn't perfect, always willing to put up with anything thrown at him.

"You're my problem," I practically spitted. I shoved Cicero again I couldn't believe the next words to come out of my mouth. "I hate that you're Mother's favorite."

"Oh, you jest with poor, gullible Cicero," the Keeper laughed bitterly, "for you are Mother's favorite."

"She had a message specifically for you. You were the reason I had to go to the Imperial city to get Garnag. She had all that done for you!" I countered.

"You get to hear sweet Mother's voice, not Cicero!"

"You're the only one she calls by name. I'm always 'daughter' or 'Listener', but you get to be 'sweet Cicero!'" I was in Cicero's face making him back up.

"You're the one she waited for fourteen years to break the silence. Not loyal, faithful Cicero," Cicero said pushing me away.

"No, you!" Shove.

"No, you!" Shove back.

"You!" Somewhere in the storm of "you", Cicero and I were kissing. My legs were wrapped around his hips and he fell backwards onto my bed. Suddenly my top was off and somehow the Keeper had lost his pants.

"Mama's boy!"

"Brown noser!"

"Cry baby!"

"Brat!"

Dimly I knew we were fighting, but my brain wasn't exactly sure about what. It might have had something to do with why blood was rushing towards the bottom half of my body. All I knew was I planned on winning this fight one way or another.

Our hands were a flurry of pushing and pulling at each other. We weren't quite slapping each other so much as making full handed contact each time we touched.

My fingers in Cicero's hair weren't certain if they wanted to pull or just curl the fine hair with my fists. Cicero's lips nipped and kissed across my body making me gasp. Even when Cicero entered me, we were still yelling accusations at each other.

At some point I think one of us said, "I missed you," and the other replied, "Me too," but I'm not sure with mouths busy exploring each other's bodies.

Afterwards, we were both lying on the bed sweaty and out of breath. Cicero was smiling and lying on his stomach while I was sprawled on my back. I could feel sleep coming and I struggled to keep my eyes open as I rolled over to put my mouth against Cicero's ear.

"You," I whispered before rolling over and going to sleep.


	11. While I was gone

**Turdas 29 Last Seed 203 4E 9:00 AM**

I was dumping my bed furs into the laundry basket when Babette and Meena sauntered into my room. Babette looked sleepy and a little on edge while Meena looked extremely smug. The Khajiit's arrogant looked dropped away when she noticed what was in my hands.

"Oh, dammit," she grumbled as she dug out a coin pouch and handed it to Babette who was smirking broadly. "You really couldn't keep your pants on for at least one night?"

"Shut up!" I blushed. "Maybe I just felt like changing my bed. These old ones were on my bed for the last two months."

Meena stalked over and sniffed the linens. "Not likely. Meena can smell the male on these. Are you quite sure that he isn't yours?"

"As amusing as all this is, could I give my report so I may retire, ladies?" Babette's voice made it clear she didn't really consider either Meena or me a lady. "I have had simply the worst time with you gone, Listener."

I gestured to my small personal table that was off to the side of the room. I picked up a pot of tea that I had brewed, placed it on the table, and poured myself a cup. "Begin at any time," I said as I sat down. I crossed my legs getting comfortable. No doubt this report was going to take a while.

* * *

><p><strong>Babette's story<strong>

**Morndas 1 Sun's Height 203 4E 10:00 AM**

"I promise to be back as soon as possible," Hecate said from atop Shadowmere. The demon horse danced about on fiery hooves ready to feel the road again. Nazir was behind her on his own brown stallion which was a big Hammerfell creature but looked small compared to Shadowmere. Except for Babette, the rest of the Brotherhood was gathered around their leader as she bid farewell before leaving for the Imperial City. The little vampire was still in the shadows of the Black Door away from the harmful rays of the sun.

"Kill well and often," the family said the traditional farewell with great enthusiasm despite knowing this was not a killing mission. The Listener waved one last time, her eyes lingering on Cicero, before bolting south. Nazir gave a two fingered salute before following suit.

Babette was in a bad mood. She had been woken from her bed, stayed up way too early, and now was in charge of a band of misfit assassins. Babette really wished that Hecate had not chosen her as surrogate leader. It damaged the image she had so carefully crafted for young Aventus. The boy was looking suspiciously at her now. Not that he hadn't been giving glimpses for weeks now, but the Listener's decree just hastened the inevitable.

The vampire mentally shrugged. What was the worst that could happen? As a Khajiit, Meena had natural wanderlust and surely could take care of herself. Cicero has survived the falling of two Sanctuaries. Aventus had lived on his own for several months until the Brotherhood took him in. There was plenty of food in the pantry and Nazir had left a small stack of contracts they would work on if anyone felt a need to kill. They probably wouldn't even notice that Hecate and Nazir were gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 8 Sun's Height 203 4E 8:00 PM<strong>

"I'm hungry," Aventus complained. "When is dinner?"

Babette was carefully going over Nazir's notes for contracts. It had been most frustrating to realize that the Redguard had his own series of personal notes instead of just writing out the exact details like a normal person would do. Babette could probably figure it out if it was written in Imperial, but the Nazir used the alphabet of his native Hammerfell and that made the task ten times more difficult. She had not been able to give out any contracts because she had to translate them first.

"Heat up something," Babette snapped.

"There's nothing left from the stuff Nazir had made before he left," Aventus whined. Even Nazir went out on contract. Whenever he went out, Nazir made sure to have about a week's worth of food for the others to eat until he could come back and make more. The man was obnoxiously proud of his cooking skills. Babette personally did not see what the big deal was. So what if the man could sear meat and potatoes a certain way? Blood was so much more satisfying than mundane meals had ever been.

"Surely you can manage to put a piece of meat between two pieces of bread, dear brother," Babette said her voice dripping with sarcasm. By Sithis, there were days she wondered if this project with Aventus would be worth the rewards. Babette never remembered sounding so young and needy as a child. Maybe she would let the boy grow a little bit older before offering the Dark Gift; surely a year wouldn't hurt her plans.

The Keeper came stumbling into the main room. He was covered in dirt and twigs, probably from rooting around another secret tunnel that only he knew. Cicero was grinning madly as usual, but there was an undertone that Babette knew she wouldn't like.

The vampire was grateful that Cicero hadn't been moping with Hecate gone. He had remained his usual manic self, mostly keeping himself to tending to the Night Mother. Sooner or later, Cicero would hit a depressed mood and then Sithis help them. She was not going to be able to tolerate the madman's ranting or try to talk him out of hiding behind the Night Mother's coffin like the Listener would. Maybe Meena would take care of Cicero.

Speaking of Meena taking care of Cicero, Babette was pleasantly surprised that she had not seen Meena sneaking neither in nor out of Cicero's room. She had thought the Khajiit would make a play for Cicero's affection with her rival gone for an undefined long amount of time. Maybe the catkin had understood there would be dire consequences and left the fire alone instead of stirring the coals.

And maybe horkers would fly.

As far as Babette was concerned, they were all adults and it was not her responsibility to get involved. If something did happen while the Listener was gone, she had better not expect Babette to have done something. Cicero was amusing enough, but part of Babette had not forgiven the Fool for what had happened to Astrid. The Nord had been more than just a leader; in many ways she had been the mother of the Brotherhood by keeping her ragtag band together with her sheer charisma when the rest of the Sanctuaries had been destroyed. She had adapted and survived—something a vampire could respect.

Babette could still remember when she had first joined the Brotherhood. Most of the family had no idea their matron was a corpse. They thought she was some woman who had inherited the title much like the Speakers. It had taken Babette almost a hundred years to get far enough to into the inner circle to find out the truth and then she had been most disappointed.

To find out that the woman she had respected and killed for was just a pile of bones and flesh when Babette herself was one of the living dead was just anticlimactic. The Breton still respected the power the inanimate figure commanded, but to fear, love, and vie for her affection? No, thank you. If Babette could have been satisfied with the image and not the actual person, she would have stayed with her mentor. That was a woman who knew how to sell her person in the best light possible and gain more and more power for it.

Babette was not sure what she was looking for, but when she met Astrid, she knew she had found it. This was a woman who was strong, confident, and completely dedicated to getting what she wanted at any cost. And she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty like other so-called mentors.

Babette had loved Astrid—and Cicero, however indirectly, had gotten her killed. Babette mostly tolerated his presence since Aventus seemed to have a certain fondness for the fool, but she hoped to weaken that link soon. The more the boy depended on her for companionship, the better her odds of turning him.

"Look at what Cicero found," the jester said in a singsong voice. His gloved hands had been behind his back. He pulled one hand forward to show that he had a tunnel snake and it was still alive. Aventus started screaming his head off at the sight of the creature.

"By Sithis, Cicero, what the hell are you thinking?" Aventus said as he scrambled backwards. The boy tripped over a chair and landed on his back. It didn't stop him from continuing his retreat backwards.

"Language!" Babette scolded. "Aventus, you should not use such crude dialogue."

"Cicero has a gods damned snake and I'm being yelled at?" Aventus retorted pointing at the laughing Keeper. Cicero was holding the snake firmly under the jaw so it could not turn around and bite him. Babette could tell it was a harmless tunnel snake; she had harvested venom from enough of the vermin over the years to easily tell the difference. "Besides, Hecate said I could say whatever I damned well pleased."

"First off, the Listener is not here. I am and I am in charge. I say you may not talk that way. If you wish, you may resume when the Listener returns, but in the mean time you are to have a civil tongue," Babette said looking down her nose at the sprawled boy. She turned to Cicero who was still laughing his fool head off at his trick. "As for you, Keeper, that is not appropriate for the dining area. Please dispose of it immediately."

Cicero merely shrugged and tossed the wiggling snake over his shoulder. As the poor creature flew through the air, Meena came in for a late dinner also. The Khajiit casually swiped at it with her claws and the snake fell into two pieces on the ground.

"What is there to eat?" she asked sniffing the air. "Meena does not smell anything good."

Aventus stood up and dusted the back of his pants off. He walked back to the table, picked up the fallen chair and sat down as Meena and Cicero seated themselves. His jaw was set at an angry angle. Babette mentally sighed. She would have to make it up to the boy later. He was being sullen, but sometimes one had to sooth a male's ego. Honestly, what was wrong with having a little decorum?

"All of you are more than capable of making something to eat on your own. You are more than welcome to help yourselves." Babette turned back to the stack of contracts. "I think I finally figured out Nazir's code. I will give out contracts after you three eat."

"Contracts?" Meena asked. She placed her chin on one paw while her tail lashed back and forth. "Who does the little one think is going to go out?"

"Are you suggesting that you would disobey a direct order from a superior, Khajiit?" Babette was on the verge of growling.

"Never," Meena purred. "Meena loves contracts. But who else is going?"

Babette paused. The cat had a point. Babette couldn't go out. Since she was in charge she needed to stay near Sanctuary. "Cicero can take a few contracts. His blade is still active."

"Oh, no, no, no," Cicero shook his head sadly. "Loyal Cicero may only go on contract with lovely, dear Hecate. The Listener said Cicero could only kill with her."

"Okay, then Aventus can finally take a contract," Babette rubbed the bridge of her nose. If she could still get headaches, she definitely would be forming one right now.

"But the Listener said I had to wait until she said I was ready," Aventus pointed out. "She said I had to have back up too. At least for my first one. And then depending on how well I do, I might be able to go out alone."

Sithis damn Hecate for not gathering more people into the Brotherhood. They were too undermanned for this mission she had been sent on by the Night Mother. And to take Nazir too was just plain irresponsible.

"You mean to tell me out of all of us only Meena can go on contract?" Babette asked. The others nodded solemnly. "Lovely."

"We still haven't done nothing about dinner," Aventus whined. "I'm hungry!"

"Cicero is hungry too!" The Keeper joined in with Aventus whining. Meena added her shrill yowl to their voices.

Babette had enough. She jumped on the table and stomped her tiny foot on the surface. "Enough! There is no reason the lot of you cannot act like the adults you are."

"I'm not an adult," Aventus said mischievously.

"Well, it is time you started acting like one. My mentor used to say 'Remember there is always someone out to get your blood.' It is very sound advice and the quicker you learn that, the better off you will be, my young brother." Babette recalled that she was still standing on top of a table. She primly smoothed her skirt.

"To show my good will, I will treat the lot of you to dinner in Dawnstar. Do not get used to it. You better be ready tomorrow to feed yourselves." The other three cheered. Babette hoped the Listener and Nazir would get home soon.

One week down. How many more to go?

* * *

><p><strong>Turdas 29 Last Seed 203 4E 10:00 AM<strong>

"Well, that was certainly interesting," I said blinking slowly. I never imagined they would become so dysfunctional while I was gone. Maybe it was time for Aventus to go on his first contract. The boy had more than enough training. I just wasn't ready for him to grow up any more than he had already.

Cicero on the other hand, I don't think I could ever allow going out on contract alone. He was much too agoraphobic and could have a bad day at any moment. It seemed a shame since he was such a natural assassin, but at least it gave me a good excuse to spend time alone with him without someone else poking their noses in. Like Meena.

"Thank you for your report, Babette," I said standing. "I know I have kept you up longer than usual. Why don't you get some rest?"

"Thank you, Listener," Babette replied. She stood up too and gave me a hug. "I am ever so glad that you are home. And with a new brother too. I hope this means we will be inviting new siblings soon."

"It does. I do have one question. Did you ever talk to Aventus about your…condition? If we are going to increase our family, they will need to know about your abilities."

Babette grimaced. "That is a story for another day, sister. For now I would like to rest." She bowed and excused herself.

I turned to Meena with my hands on my hips. The catkin was lounging on my bed. "And what about you, Khajiit? Did anything interesting happen to you while I was gone?"

* * *

><p><strong>Meena's tale<strong>  
><strong>Fredas 26 Sun's Height 203 4E 8:00 PM<strong>

It has been almost a month since SHE and Nazir left for their special mission. Meena had been delighted to hear the two of them would be gone for a long time. Finally, she would have a chance with the red furred male.

Meena could tell the female little one was watching her to see if she would try anything with the red one, but Meena was not a fool. SHE was interested in the male and the male was interested in her, even if SHE wouldn't admit it. But SHE had not claimed the male and that made him fair game. And even if SHE had claimed the male, no cat worth her fur ever gave up on something she wanted just because someone else said it was theirs.

The red furred male understood was it was to be Khajiit. "Fusozay Var Dar" or "Enjoy Life". Why spend all day, every day worrying about what was or what could be? That was silliness the men and mer concerned themselves with instead of just enjoying life to its fullest.

Meena could have made her move immediately, but the red one needed time to forget about the other one. SHE was the queen of the colony, as small as it was. SHE had the favor of the one known as the Night Mother. Neither that one nor the other entity, the Dread Lord Sithis, were known in Meena's home culture. This left Meena not sure how they fit into her world view. If it had been Sheggorath, the mad god, or Lorkhaj, the moon beast, then Meena would have easily followed them.

Any god who supported killing for money and allowed open ownership was a god Meena could support. She never was one for rules, but even the Khajiit had to admit the rules weren't that bad. You didn't have to worry about the others in the colony trying to kill you so what was wrong with that? Meena still didn't really understand the Tenet about stealing, but surely there was nothing wrong with borrowing your siblings' things for good reasons, right? Especially if you more or less put it back in its place when you were done.

The red furred one was in his room humming to himself while he was grinding some herbs for his oils. Meena knocked on the door frame before coming into the room. "Knock, knock," she said with a toothy grin. Usually Meena just ran around in her leathers. Tonight she was wearing a dress that was open in the back to show off what she considered her best feature – her tail. Raccoon tailed in design, it was puffy and soft and irresistible to pet for most menfolk.

Her hair was out of its normal gold ringed braids and fell in waves down to her shoulders. Meena missed the slight jingle they made in her ears, but from what she understood men liked it when women changed their looks when on the hunt.

"Hello, Mew Mew," Cicero said smiling broadly at her. Meena loved that the red one had given her a special name. As far as she could tell, he had not given HER a special name. Listener didn't count since it was her title. "How may Cicero serve you today?"

"Meena is lonely and wanted some company," she said leaning forward so that the fabric of her dress drooped drastically. Meena wasn't sure what Cicero's preferences were. Some men thought it strange, almost bestiality, to mate with non-men especially Khajiit or Argonians. Honestly, Meena saw no difference than if it was a mer. The elves seemed just as different from men then Argonians were to Khajiit. Others would take any warm body. It was the ones who would also consider a cold one that concerned her as strange.

"Maybe we could go hunting," Cicero suggested as he stood. "Animals are less interesting than humans for sport, but their screams are still pleasing."

"Meena is already hunting, red one," she purred as she leaned in to kiss the jester. The feel of his mouth against her muzzle was wonderful. For months, she had been subtly touching and teasing with the Keeper. Although he had always accepted her advances, he had never encouraged them in any manner Meena could tell. She did love how it made HER fume and pout so clearly the signal was there for anyone to see.

"Humble Cicero is honored," the jester said jumping back. He put one hand behind his head as he laughed bashfully. "However, the Keeper is forever on duty and may not indulge. Cicero hopes that Meena is not insulted."

"Oh, really?" Meena continued purring as she pushed her body against Cicero's. She kneaded his shoulders so her claws went right through the thin material of his motley. "Meena has smelled your scent on HER so clearly Cicero has indulged some."

"Oh, no! No, loyal Cicero is merely Keeping the Listener as he Keeps Mother. Well, not the SAME way, mind you. But Cicero Keeps all the same." The jester laughed nervously as he tried to explain himself. Meena liked how he didn't flinch from her claws despite how much they must have hurt. This tom was a tough one.

"Not even once? You won't even take a little break once? For your dear, bored, lonely sister?" Meena tickled Cicero's face with her tail.

"Cicero is loyal, faithful, and steadfast!" the Fool proclaimed. He gently pushed Meena towards the exit. "If Mew Mew were the Listener, then Cicero would gladly do whatever she wished. And Cicero knows that Mew Mew would surely take advantage of the Keeper's services without hesitation. But alas, our dear Hecate is the Listener and it is to her Cicero must obey. Goodbye, goodbye!" With that, Cicero pushed Meena out of his room and quickly slammed the door.

Meena huffed and placed her hands on her hips. If only if there was some way to replace HER as queen of this colony. Then Meena truly could do whatever she wanted when she wanted.

* * *

><p><strong>Turdas 29 Last Seed 203 4E 10:15 AM<strong>

"No, nothing interesting happened at all," Meena yawned. She lazily got off my bed and sauntered away. I couldn't help but notice that her rolling around on the linen had left her multicolored fur all over the surface. Damn cat had marked my bed. When would she learn to respect other people's things?

I sighed as I cleaned up my tea. The warm drink had been good, but I wanted a bit more food. It was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, but I could grab a small snack from the kitchen when I dropped off my dirty dishes.

When I entered the kitchen, I found Aventus struggling with slicing some meat. "Let me help you," I offered. The boy gratefully handed me his knife and the roast he had been cutting on. "Your blade is dull. You have to take care better of it."

"Sorry," the boy mumbled around a chunk of meat I had handed him.

"Anything neat happen to you while I was gone?" I asked.

"Well…," Aventus blushed.

* * *

><p><strong>Aventus' theory<strong>

**Middas 7 Last Seed 203 4E 11:00 PM**

Aventus swallowed nervously. Maybe he shouldn't do this. Maybe it would be better to not ask. To ask would change things and Aventus liked how things were now. But Aventus had to know.

For months, the Imperial boy had suspected there was something different about Babette. He had never been the smartest boy when the orphans did lessons, but he wasn't slow either. He had noticed that Babette always slept during the day, had way too many contracts in her past, talked funny, and never ate food.

During meal times she would sit next to Aventus with a full plate. He hadn't noticed at first, but all of his training had made him more aware of his surroundings. After a while, Aventus observed that Babette never actually ate any of the food on her plate. She pushed it around and twirled her spoon, but the food ever actually went into her mouth. Nazir would glare at the Breton every time. Aventus finally figured that the Redguard was angry that she was wasting his food.

Aventus loved Nazir's cooking. It was always hot, filling, and there was a lot of it. After months of surviving on half a loaf of stale bread or small fishes he had managed to snag down at the dock, Aventus was ecstatic to have regular meals again.

After a few months in the Brotherhood, he had lost all the haunted look of a starving child. His cheeks filled out and gained a healthy blush. Sometimes Babette would lean her face against his throat and comment how warm he felt. That she loved the sound of his heartbeat.

Aventus knew he was doing the right thing to confront Babette with the truth. She wouldn't have to hide anymore and they could still be best friends. She was his sister, even if she was adopted, and he would love her no matter what she was.

"Babette, can I talk privately with you?" Aventus swallowed.

"Of course, my dear Aventus," Babette smiled her special smile with her lips closed. "We can go outside."

The two children walked out of Sanctuary and into the moonlit night. High above the two moons shone their light everywhere. Babette took Aventus' hand into hers and the two of them walked quietly along the wave line for a few minutes. Aventus noted how cold her hand felt and thought of how cold it always felt.

"I know what you are!" Aventus blurted. He mentally cursed himself. He had hoped to be smoother, cleverer. Maybe he should have talked to Cicero first. Cicero always knew what to say. Or at least had something clever to say even if he did make Hecate mad at times.

"What would that be, dear brother?" Babette said raising one eyebrow. Aventus realized that he was taller than the girl now. When he had first joined the Brotherhood, Babette had been the same height and now Aventus was a good two fingers taller. When had that happened?

"You never go out during the day, you don't eat, you talk funny, your hands are always cold," Aventus stammered. He didn't know why he felt a need to list her traits; Babette knew the truth as much as he did.

"Go on," Babette urged softly. "Say it. Say what I am."

"You're…," Aventus swallowed, "you're a construct!"

"What?" Babette's face was one of disbelief.

"You're one of those constructs from Dwemer ruins. I heard they have really good sentinels and they still run even though the dwarves are long dead. I figured out you must be one of those. Probably a special model, since you're a little girl."

Aventus had been prepared for a lot of reactions. He had thought Babette would cry. Maybe she would deny it. Maybe she would be happy that he had figured it out all on his own.

He had not thought she would start laughing at him. Babette laughed so hard she fell to the ground while holding her sides. The Breton kicked her legs in the air while guffawing.

"By Sithis! You thought I was a sentinel? Have you ever even seen one?"

"No," Aventus admitted blushing. She didn't have to tease him so much.

"I promise you that I am no construct," Babette sighed happily wiping a tear from her eye. "That was sweet of you to think so." She kissed him on the cheek before going back to Sanctuary. As she walked away, she was still chuckling to herself.

Aventus clenched his fists in anger. By Sithis, Babette could be a bitch sometimes.

* * *

><p><strong>Turdas 29 Last Seed 203 4E 11:00 AM<strong>

"Oh, sweety, I'm sorry," I hugged Aventus.

"I just wish I knew what was up with Babette," he lamented. "I know there is something; I just don't know enough to know what."

"She'll tell you some day," I promised.

"But I want to know now," the boy pouted.

"The harsh lesson of wisdom, dear heart," I said.

"I'm tired of being treated like a little kid," Aventus huffed. "I've killed people. Several people, in fact. I should get a contract soon."

"Do you think you're ready?" I asked with my heart in my throat.

"Yes!"

"Then go talk to Nazir and he'll set something up for you," I said trying not to sigh.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Aventus jumped up and down with joy. The boy scurried off to get his first contract. I didn't want him to go, but it was time to let him to start being part of the family in full. He was more than trained enough to keep him here any longer would only cripple him.

I left the kitchen and went downstairs to the training area. Cicero was there walking on his hands.

"Morning, Keeper," I said turning my head to see him better.

"Morning, Listener," Cicero grinned upside down at me. His jester's cap was still firmly on his head. One day I would ask him how he managed to do that. Cicero flipped over so he was standing again. "How may Cicero serve you?"

"I have been asking everyone what they had been up to while I was gone. I thought I would ask you if you had anything to report," I said expecting nothing.

"Cicero Kept Mother. He Kept her clean and protected…and happy." His tone is intentionally teasing. Cicero knew the others in Falkreath thought he was a necrophile. Even my report of his appropriate behavior while oiling the Night Mother never stopped the whispering. If he cared, he never showed it. Cicero never seemed to care what others thought of him.

I shrugged. Cicero seemed to only live in the now. Unless there had been an attack or something that threatened the Night Mother, I couldn't expect him to have worried about it. And if something like that had happened, then Babette would have already told me.

"Well, good job, Keeper," I said waving goodbye. "I'm going to find Nazir and Garnag to see about starting recruiting in earnest."

"Bye, bye!" Cicero grinned waving goodbye.

* * *

><p><strong>Cicero's thoughts<strong>

**Turdas 29 Last Seed 203 4E 2:15 AM**

Cicero watches the Listener sleep. The Listener is curled on her side with her hair floating around her like the Void. She looks so innocent when she sleeps. Calm and at peace in a way she never is when she's awake. When the Listener is awake, she is always worried about one thing or another.

If there is innocence and it is not an illusion, then the Listener is innocent. Even when she kills, she kills with love for her targets. They said that Old Lady Luck had kind eyes. Listener Alisanne Dupre had kind eyes. His Listener has kind eyes.

Cicero puts his ear near her mouth so he can hear her breathe. The soft whisper of her breath sends shivers down his spine. He loves it because it is proof that she is alive, that she is real. So many years of his mind playing tricks on him, Cicero is not sure if he is real at times. How can he be sure the Listener is real too?

Seeing Garnag after all these years was good. Cicero is happy that his brother is alive, but he is worried too. Garnag knows too much about Cicero. Garnag told Cicero that he had been forgiven by the Night Mother for their sin. Cicero is certain that is the message the Listener will give him. Forgiveness from the Night Mother, how wonderful! After all these years too!

But seeing Garnag is bad too. His brother brings back the memories. The memories Cicero does not want or need. The now is all Cicero needs for dancing and singing and laughing.

The Listener must never know what Cicero and Garnag did. She would not turn loyal, faithful Cicero away, but it would change things. Change is the only constant, but Cicero prefers to make sure it is change he wants. The Listener would close down like she always does and Cicero cannot stand the thought of her going away. Far away where Cicero cannot follow.

The Listener cannot know that Garnag and Cicero killed Rasha the last Speaker of Cheydinhal Sanctuary.

* * *

><p>AN: Cicero's section is supposed to be written in present tense in case anyone noticed.


	12. Oiling

**Tirdas 4 First Seed 4E 204 11:30 PM**

With a practiced flick of his wrist, Cicero spread the thin protective cloth over my bed. I stepped forward and let the dressing robe fall loose to pool at my feet. Although a fire roared in its pit, the air was still cool enough to cause my bare skin to break out in goose bumps. As Cicero removed his gloves and rolled his sleeves up, I laid on my stomach on the bed. I folded my arms in front of myself and rested my head on them. The jester pushed my flowing black hair up over my shoulder so it would it would not be soiled.

Cicero dipped his fingers into the earthen pots that have been warming by the fire. Oil covered fingers gently probed the back of my neck, kneading tension away. Professional hands travelled down my back. He never lingered too long, never making his touch overtly friendly. I sighed blissfully letting the Keeper know my pleasure. My thu'um caused the bed to shudder; I was no longer shy that he knew how his touch made me feel. Cicero only wished to please; it is only fair to that he knew he had done well.

The last six months have been prosperous for the Brotherhood. Garnag had been invaluable in advising on how to find killers. New siblings have been added and our ranks have doubled. Deesei, a female Argonian tracker, drew our attention for killing a guard in Riften. She preferred to fight with her fists and has been an excellent teacher for brawling.

Vedave Sendal, a male Dunmer mage, specialized in enchanting and destruction. He was expelled from the Winterhold Mage's college for killing a rival in an "accident" that looked too much like a well-placed fireball. Injuring three other students had not helped his case.

Eiruki, a female Nord, whose long brown hair and large brown eyes made her look as innocent as a virgin on her wedding day. She's so soft spoken that I can barely hear her most of the time and had to ask her to repeat herself. Under that exterior was a killer, but she seemed happy to spend most of her days helping Nazir run the household when not on contract.

Anaril Telind, a male Altmer, was another Winterhold reject. He managed to encase most of the school in a block of ice while experimenting with his magic. Anaril was primarily a destruction caster, but he dabbled in a little bit of everything arcane including alchemy. He now assisted Babette with her potions.

Geldii, a female Bosmer, was a rare heavy armor user. The slight wood elf looked almost comical in her heavy steel armor and her double bladed axe; at least until she started swinging it. Then her victims better hope they had time to get out of the way. Geldii has said several times that she likes how the blood sprayed from her victims.

Elbent, a male Breton in his fifties, had a good sense of money. The man had several fences throughout Skyrim. I preferred to keep good relations with the Thieves' guild and sold any stolen items to them first, but I found that their coffers seemed strangely low for a group whose sole function was to make money. We needed other sources of income and Elbent provided that. The man was charming and could get very close to his victims by getting them comfortable enough to open up their secrets before slitting their throats.

Mother was beyond pleased with the new additions. With our ranks fuller, we are able to maintain a better presence throughout Skyrim and more Black Sacraments are performed bringing us contracts. Our reputation for killing Titus Meade had made us popular with the Nords and a force to be feared.

I spent most of my days helping with training and resolving any conflicts among the family. The Sanctuary was getting crowded and even the closest of siblings fight occasionally. Strong personalities collide and tempers must be soothed. It was tiring and stressful which caused me to need Cicero's skills even more.

Both palms pressed firmly down on the small of my back, causing bones to pop loudly. Cicero knew that was where the most tension was and systematically rubbed until it was all gone. His voice was a low baritone as he softly sang to himself. A positive sign, the Fool of Hearts only sang when he was in a good mood. No macabre jokes or morbid ditties as he promised me when we first started this nightly ritual. Tonight was an Imperial lullaby that brought nostalgic memories of my childhood.

_How did I get here?_ I wondered.

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 10 Second Seed 203 4E 9:00 AM<strong>

"Oh, Listener, your neck hurts? Let humble Cicero rub it for you."

* * *

><p><strong>Fredas 7 Mid Year 203 4E 8:00 AM<strong>

"Listener, you slept poorly on your arm? Let Cicero see!"

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 11 Sun's Dusk 203 4E 10:00 PM<strong>

"Poor Listener! Your feet ache? Sit, sit while Cicero removes your boots and massage them for you."

* * *

><p><strong>Loredas 14 Evening Star 203 4E 9:30 PM<strong>

"Listener, there's so much tension in your back. If you'll loosen your armor, Cicero could reach it so much more easily."

* * *

><p><strong>Turdas 2 Morning Star 204 4E 11:30 PM<strong>

"Is the Listener ready for her nightly message? Please make yourself comfortable while loyal Cicero prepares the oil."

* * *

><p><strong>Tirdas 4 First Seed 204 4E 11:30 PM<strong>

By Dibella, he was a sly bastard.

After knowing the Fool of Hearts for more than two years now, he constantly was able to pull one over me. No matter how much I tried to resist, Cicero would break through my defenses with his eternal patience.

Every night we went through this ritual. Every night except one. His weekly oiling of the Shrouded Lady left Cicero too exhausted physically and mentally for anything else that night. The most sacred of his duties as Keeper, the process started at sundown and lasted until midnight.

* * *

><p><strong>Sundas 25 First Seed 3:15 PM 4E 202<strong>

"I want you to observe this oiling of the Night Mother," Astrid commanded. It had been about a month since the Night Mother spoke to me and Cicero proclaimed that I was the Listener. We were standing in the reporting room as usual. I had been surprised when I was summoned to find the Keeper waiting there ahead of me.

Cicero stood about ten feet away from me, his arms crossed and his face pinched with a frown. "Frankly, I'm getting disturbed by his muttering about the 'hard to reach spots'. I want someone to see exactly what he's doing with the Night Mother," Astrid explained.

"You don't even believe in the power of the Lady," I reminded Astrid. "Why do you care?"

"I don't, but I also have no interest in a perverted necrophile in our home either," Astrid said pitching her voice low enough so Cicero could not hear. Astrid might openly voice her disdain of the Keeper and the Night Mother in front of the others, but she was always careful to not do so directly.

"We're not exactly the role models for normality," I reminded our leader. Every last one of us was professional killers with odd quirks like being a vampire or werewolf or destruction magic obsessed wizard. Nazir liked to cook with a passion I didn't quite understand either.

"I'm not the only one expressing a concern. Even Gabriella is getting uncomfortable," Astrid said. I whistled low. That was quite a feat if Cicero was getting under the skin of our local death obsessed dunmer.

"I understand it has to be me. The Keeper maintains the Night Mother's corpse so she can create a spiritual connection with her earthly remains so she may commune with the Listener. If he's performing his duty then it's effectively a duty for me so I should have the right to observe," I said, showing off my learning of the old rites from my studies with Festus Krex. I was rather proud of learning as much as I had under the cranky old man's tutelage. "However, I sincerely doubt he's done anything inappropriate." I recalled the Night Mother's comment of how I warmed her cold bones when I had crawled into her coffin to spy on Cicero. Surely if the Keeper had been doing anything similar, the Night Mother's tone would not have been so pleased.

I stifled a giggle at the thought of Cicero secluded in the coffin and rubbing lovingly against the Night Mother while moaning, "Ooooh, Mother!"

"Let me get one thing clear, Hecate," Astrid said. She stuck her hand under my face with her finger extended. "I'm not asking you to this. I am telling you to do this." She turned and stalked away. Her growing paranoia was getting irritating. Astrid had held control of the Brotherhood for so long with no contenders; she didn't know how to deal with the new competition. It wouldn't be so bad if that competition was viewed as a mad fool and a corpse, but the declaration of me as the Listener had changed the game. I was more or less normal and had the potential for the others to listen to me.

As Astrid huffed past Cicero, he turned his back to her indicating his own irritation. The jester was making a bold statement to show his back to an assassin, especially one who openly despised him.

"You heard the boss," I said walking over to Cicero. I shrugged helplessly to show it wasn't my idea.

"That harlot is not the boss," the jester sneered. "Our Mother is the boss. The Listener should lead for Mother and not that blonde hussy."

"I don't want to lead," I sighed. We had this argument many times by now. Cicero insisted that I needed to be the one controlling the Brotherhood in the Night Mother's name. It was the only way to honor the Old Ways. I had no desire to lead. This was my retirement, dammit, but it was hard to use that as an argument when I wasn't willing to declare that I was the Dragonborn.

"If Cicero must submit to this ridiculous demand, then I have a few rules." He ticked off each point with a gloved finger. "First, the Listener must arrive half an hour before sunset. Cicero has much he must do to prepare and will not be disturbed once he begins. If the Listener is late, she will be locked out of the inner sanctuary and must wait until next week. Second, the Listener must be absolutely quiet the entire time. Silence is required for the ritual."

"Silence, the Void, I got it," I said. I thought he would smile, but Cicero only scowled at my interruption. Despite my nonchalant attitude, I was excited to be included. I had pored over several books detailing the Brotherhood and none of them had any mention of the rites required to maintain the Lady's body.

"Third," Cicero slammed his fist into the wall next to my head. He leaned in until he was inches from my face, "if at any point Mother tells the Listener she is unwelcome, the Listener must obey. Astrid may have abandoned the Tenets, but not loyal Cicero. Have I made myself perfectly clear?" His voice was little more than a primal growl. I was reminded of how the Keeper had sounded when he thought I had blasphemed the Night Mother's coffin. A cold chill ran down my spine and it took everything in me to not shiver.

"Cicero, I promise that if our Mother commands me to leave, I will obey," I gently lowered his fist away from my face. I don't think that he would hurt me now that I was named Listener, but I didn't want to push my luck. The Keeper was extremely sensitive when it came to honoring the Night Mother. He had murdered Lorieus and his wife after I had unwittingly commented that they had been disrespectful. To what extreme would Cicero go if he perceived a direct insult? "If you prefer, I'll go attempt to commune with her right now." It was a hollow gesture and we both knew it. The Night Mother had not spoken to me since the first time when she had given me the Binding Words to prove that I was the Listener.

It was another disappointment for Cicero. He had thought that once the Night Mother broke her long silence she would be full of advice and guidance for her children. I could only assume she was waiting to see if her children would prove worthy before further communication. Meanwhile, the Keeper frequently asked me what the Night Mother had said when she had spoken to me and if she had talked again while he was away.

Cicero's face was doubtful, "How can Cicero know the Listener will tell the truth?" His tone became pained. "Mother has never spoken to dear Cicero. No matter how hard he tried."

I pulled his gloved hand to my chest and placed it over my heart. "I swear by the Void, Sithis, and our Lady that I'll never lie to you about what Mother says to me." His smile was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. I wondered if he could feel my heart suddenly beating faster.

* * *

><p><strong>Sundas 25 First Seed 7:15 PM 4E 202<strong>

Cicero locked the inner sanctum doors as I curled into a ball on one of the pews. My mind was still reeling at the change in him. I was used to always seeing him in his jester gear flittering about with shrill laughter or loud jokes. During the day when Cicero cleaned the shrine, he usually chattered nonstop to the Night Mother about whatever thought crossed his mind.

There was a silence and stillness about him, a serenity I had not seen before. He was wearing his Keeper robes, a formal cut of the shrouded robes Gabriella and Festus wore. The material of Cicero's was the finest spider silk while the spellcasters' robes were made of fine wool. Unlike his jester's motley, these clothes were new; no doubt Cicero sewed new ones any time the slightest hint of wear showed. No frayed or patched Keeper's robes for Mother's oiling. His face was shadowed by a large black hood. The Fools of Hearts had been neatly put aside and only the Keeper was here.

Chanting in a language I didn't recognize, Cicero walked around the coffin adjusting flowers he had placed beforehand or relighting candles. Although he had lit dozens of candles, the room was still full of shadow. After circling the coffin five times, Cicero stopped before the open coffin itself. Kneeling in supplication, he continued to murmur praises to the Night Mother. This continued for an hour. It was difficult for me to stay still and quiet for so long. I found myself nodding off, but I dared not move for fear of making a sound or drawing something's attention to myself. Not just Cicero, but something lurking in the shadows.

Finally, Cicero stood again and approached the corpse. "Dearest Mother, forgive this unworthy servant for his actions." He gently released her from her resting place and lifted her into his arms. Cicero turned and placed the Night Mother on a slab where he had left pots full of prepared oils for the ceremony. Deft hands quickly loosen and removed her tattered dress. Cicero neatly folded the dress and put it carefully aside. Then he unbound the Night Mother's hair, softly brushing the fine white hair and oiling it before twisting it back into the funeral braid.

The oiling of the body was thorough. Every part of the Night Mother glistened. His gaze and touch were loving, but it was that of a son who attended to an elderly mother who cannot tend for herself. There was no perversion or lust here. I felt like an invader to see such a strong, private emotion.

Next was the cleaning of the shroud. Cicero shook it gently and examined the material for any insects that may have crawled into the linen. It was not preserved like the Lady's body and must periodically be replaced. Once he was satisfied that it is vermin free, Cicero cleaned the dress in sanctified water. While the dress dried, Cicero carefully examined the Night Mother's hands and feet for cracks. When the dress was dried, he delicately dressed the body.

The ritual was drawing to a close. The shrine was clean, the flowers fresh, and the corpse sanctified. Cicero paused and glanced over to me. Making a decision, he leaned over and kissed the Night Mother gently high on her forehead. His lips moved, but I couldn't make out the words. A step he has added over the years?

Lifting the body, he placed her back into her coffin. Rope was used to secure her into her final resting place before the coffin was closed and locked to keep unworthy eyes from looking upon her. I wondered if he had installed a better lock since I had unlocked it a month ago. One would think the Unholy Matron of an assassination cult would have the best kind of lock available for her final resting place instead of the most simple of locks I found previously.

Cicero gestured to me so that I rose and walked with him to the exit. He unlocked the door and we stepped out. Closing the heavy doors, he leaned back against them and sighed. Suddenly the cowl and robes looked too big on his frame. Cicero reminded me of a child wearing his father's clothes.

"You look tired," I commented feeling inane for stating the obvious. The ritual took several hours and Night Mother could not be that light no matter how easy he made it look. How had he managed that ritual by himself for so long?

"I am tired," Cicero said with his amber eyes closed. He lowered his hood and ran his fingers through his shoulder length auburn hair. Some residue oil clinging to his fingers stuck in his hair, but he appeared to either not notice or care. His voice was calm, sane. "Are you satisfied now?"

"Yes." My voice was small. Maybe I should have refused Astrid instead of intruding on this ritual.

"Then you will excuse me so I may retire," he gave a deep bow and walked to our room. Frequently suffering from insomnia, Cicero rarely slept. Now he walked as if he wouldn't wake for a week. As the Keeper left, I watched him thinking of how Cicero had partitioned the different parts of himself. There was Cicero the Keeper, Cicero the killer, Cicero the Fool of Hearts. Had he left any of himself for Cicero the man?

* * *

><p><strong>Tirdas 4 First Seed 4E 204 11:30 PM<strong>

Although I understood and respected his duties as Keeper, I was glad Cicero never attended to me the same night he attended to the Night Mother. I could not stand the thought of his hands caressing over my body after preparing the corpse. Although I wasn't as uncomfortable with the dead as most people, the level of intimacy was too much for me to share. Similar thoughts had chased me initially. Any time my body would suddenly tense, Cicero would stop and offer to end for the night.

"Please roll over," his breath was warm on my ear. Asking me to move had been something he had to learn instead of gently rolling me himself. Occasionally, his attentions would leave me feeling boneless and my only response would be to grunt wordlessly at him. He always laughed at my laziness, but would roll me over regardless. Cicero never liked to leave loose ends. His duties must always be finished efficiently.

Soft hands ghosted over my breasts, massaging the muscle underneath. Over a decade of working with oil and constantly wearing his thick gloves had left Cicero's hands soft enough to be the envy of any lady of the court. It made working with the blade difficult as he never developed any callouses and his hands often became raw. It never stopped him from keeping his dagger sharp and ready if duty ever beckoned. Other than fulfilling his duties as Keeper, Cicero loved sending souls to the Void more than anything.

His hands finished traveling over my body, searching for any new cuts that may heal into ugly scars. His handmade oils had amazing curing properties. I had looked in the mirror once recently and I swear even my old dragon bites seemed to have faded. Sometimes I wondered why he didn't use the oil on himself for his own myriad of scars. Maybe the pressure was just as important as the oil.

Some days Cicero liked to tease by tickling me, but he cannot stand for his work to be undone. Whenever Cicero tickled, I would kick and scream playfully in response erasing all of his careful attention. However, the Keeper would always start over again, possibly indicating he wanted to pay extra attention to my needs that night.

Other nights would end with sex. The completely different attention left me just as relaxed and satisfied. The switch from professional massager to attentive lover only happened if I initiated it. Cicero never took advantage while I was under his expert hands. Occasionally while we were cuddling, the jester would ask permission. "May I?" His amber eyes trapped me with his bold, adoring gaze. I never refused.

A gentle pressure of his hand pushing up on my back was an indication I should lift up so he can remove the protective cloth. Cicero folded the cloth with a few snaps, making a neat square. A quick swipe removed any residue oil that might have stained my sleeping furs. Before I can become chilled, he pulled my blanket over me, tucking me in.

"Goodnight, Keeper," I murmured as I snuggled into the bed. I looked up to the Keeper and smiled.

"Sleep well, Listener," Cicero responded. There was a hesitation I haven't seen before in Cicero's stance. Kneeling by the bed, he leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, "I love you."

It was the first time either of us had said those words to the other. I thought of them as the Binding Words normal people say. Cicero didn't give me a chance to respond before he grabbed his tools and left the room, carefully closing the door behind him.

My emotions were in turmoil. I couldn't breathe. I was blushing over my entire body erasing the calm I felt minutes ago. Why now? Why tonight? What made tonight different enough for Cicero to do that?

More importantly, who had Cicero been speaking to when he included that last little bit? Hecate the Listener? Diana the Dragonborn? His sister of the Brotherhood? That nameless stranger who had shown him a bit of kindness years ago? I had my own set of masks that I wore for I had to take my place on stage. Maybe making me not so different from my Keeper.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Anaril Telind belongs to Professor I. P. Freely who graciously volunteered him.**

**I had been working on a backlog for with this story which is why I was able to update once a day. Unfortunately, I have now caught up on the backlog which means updates will be a lot slower now. Huge thanks to everyone's support and reviews.**


	13. The False Dragonborn

**Morndas 7 Rain's Hand 4E 204 9:00 AM**

I was reviewing the reports from around Skyrim that Nazir had gathered from his contacts. Mostly I was focusing on how the Civil War was progressing. Falkreath had finally fallen in late autumn of last year. Fort Neugrad should have been an easy victory, especially after the grueling campaign against Whiterun the year before.

However, thanks to the whispers I had placed in the right ears, some folk were uneasy about the supposed Dragonborn assisting Ulfric's rebellion. She had arrived late in the siege against Balgruuf and had provided invaluable morale to the troops in helping defeat him, but since then the pretender had been hiding in Windhelm instead of leading the charge on the field.

There was only one reason for that: she could not produce a thu'um, a dragon shout. I had frequently used my shouts wherever I went when I was the Dragonborn. Many people did not know me by name or face because of the obscuring dragon scale helm I used to wear, but too many could remember the raw power of my Voice as I used the whirlwind sprint to dart from shop to shop whenever I stopped in a village for supplies.

It had been a few months since I checked up on the Civil War. The new recruits needed a lot of attention and I felt it was important to know each of them personally. Time passed so quickly when I wasn't watching it. I cannot believe only six months ago there were only seven of us and now we were swollen to thirteen.

I was displeased to see a report stating that a wagon loaded with silver and weapons from Markarth headed to Solitude had been waylaid by Stormcloak rebels. No doubt Ulfric had quietly arranged that little ambush and was profiting quite nicely from the influx of free weapons and increase of wealth. It was a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but small victories often feed into large ones over time.

Now Stormcloak soldiers had gathered on the fields before Fort Sungard, the Imperial military outpost near Markarth in the Reach. I gasped as I read the reports that the Dragonborn was on the field leading and fighting with her large two handed sword. And there were witnesses, Imperial soldiers, who saw her use the thu'um!

Impossible! Impossible! Those reports had to be wrong. False rumors planted by Ulfric. I reread the scrolls. "The Dragonborn shouted and I fell away from her through the air." "I saw three men fly upward like ragdolls in the wind." "She was surrounded by soldiers and then suddenly the area around the Dragonborn was empty as men fell under her voice." "The rumors were wrong. This is the true Dragonborn. May the Eight have mercy on us."

The pretender must have managed to master _fus_, force. It was possible for a person of strong will like Ulfric and the Greybeards to learn the dragon language, but that took years of study. But how? How had Ulfric managed to find someone similar to my build and train her so quickly? One year's time in the midst of campaigning a war? Unbelievable.

Maybe the Greybeards had agreed to mentor the woman. I found that unlikely. They were pacifists and steadfast against taking sides in the war. Far away from the world of men in their monastery in High Hrothgar, they wanted nothing but to contemplate the Way of the Voice as taught to them by ancient Paarthurnax.

This had gone on for long enough. I was going to personally put a stop to this. I had waited in my Sanctuary confident that the truth would be revealed on its own. Now that the woman had figured out my trademark thu'um, she and Ulfric would succeed in bringing Skyrim to their closed-minded way of thinking. I didn't care if they did it on their own, but I'd be damned to the Void before I let them do it using my name.

I felt strangely calm. I was seething, but it felt like a fire controlled in the forge waiting to melt steel to make a masterwork blade instead of the normal inferno of rage I had to struggle with constantly. I stood up from the table where I had been reading the reports and went to my room. There I calmly picked up Styx, the daedric long bow I had been given by the Brotherhood. I strapped it to my back before adding an ebony dagger Cicero had given me for my most recent birthday. It had not yet tasted blood. I intended to change that fact.

"I'm going out," I told Nazir. "You and Garnag are in charge when he gets back."

Garnag was out on contract with Aventus. The two of them made a good team. Aventus could easily get close to his targets while Garnag could provide cover from attacks with his alternation magic. When Aventus had left for his first contract, Garnag had been the boy's backup. Both of them were as excited as could be.

* * *

><p><strong>Turdas 3 Frostfall 203 4E 3:15 PM<strong>

"Be safe, Aretino," I had told Aventus as I reached to hug him goodbye. I couldn't believe that he was almost as tall as me now.

"I'll keep him safe, Listener," Garnag promised.

"Love you, sister," Aventus said, his expression solemn but his eager eyes betraying him.

"I love you, too," I kissed the boy on the forehead. "Kill well and often."

I had butterflies in my stomach until they came home a week later.

Aventus did a fine job retelling the tale with many poses and gestures. The boy was almost thirteen now and almost a man. I thought I would enroll him in the Bard's College for the final stretch of his training. Aventus had a natural gift for storytelling, singing and making friends. I didn't doubt some of that was from all the time he liked to spend with Cicero. Well, the first two anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 7 Rain's Hand 4E 204 9:00 AM<strong>

"I'll be heading down towards Markarth, so it will be about a week before I come back," I continued.

"I don't recall there being any contracts that way," Nazir said, frowning.

"There aren't. I'm going on personal business."

"Kill well and often," Nazir said bidding me farewell. He had read the reports before I received them; he had to know what I was planning. I waved and headed towards the exit.

Before I left Sanctuary, I paused before the Night Mother's shrine. "If you are going to stop me, now would be the time," I told my matron. There was absolutely no profit in the mission I was about to undertake. I waited a few minutes but the only reply was silence.

I turned to leave and saw Cicero standing a few feet away holding his cleaning supplies for the Night Mother's shrine. "Where are you going?" he asked looking at my bow. "Did Mother give you a special contract?"

"No. I am going down to Fort Sungard and I am going to kill the fake Dragonborn," I said simply. I was a little scared by how calm and cold my voice was. Years of trying to find serenity to master the thu'um and all it took was an identity thief.

The jester stepped forward so that he was a hand's breadth away from me. "Let Cicero accompany you. The Listener always does better when she has someone to watch her back." I was glad we were in front of Mother; Cicero wouldn't try to touch me in front of her. And then I wouldn't have to flinch away.

It had been about a month since Cicero told me that he loved me. I stayed up all that night agonizing about his declaration, but the next day the Fool acted as if nothing had changed. I had come to the conclusion that he must have confused me with the Night Mother. That had to be what he whispered to her when he finished his weekly oiling. I couldn't imagine Cicero saying anything else to his goddess.

Despite assuring myself, I felt uncomfortable with Cicero now. I had discontinued the nightly massages and tried to avoid the Keeper whenever possible. I found myself stiffening or jerking away whenever he touched me. It did not go unnoticed.

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 31 First Seed 204 4E 12:00 PM<strong>

"Has Cicero done something wrong?" Cicero asked. He had brought me lunch while I was working on some reports in my room. When his hand touched mine, I jerked away.

"Why do you ask?" I replied mentally hitting myself. Cicero knew me well enough to know that when I redirected a question with another question I was being evasive.

"Garnag talked to you, didn't he?" Cicero asked, his voice scaling upward. "Tell Cicero!"

"Why would Garnag talk to me?" I asked confused by Cicero's reaction. I realized my response wasn't helping anything, but I sincerely didn't know what the jester was talking about.

"Garnag told you why Mother forgave Cicero and Garnag," the Keeper was yelling. "Mother forgave us, that is all that matters. Hecate shouldn't hate Cicero."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said. I wanted to wrap my arms around Cicero and comfort him, but I couldn't bring myself to touch him. I couldn't feed into whatever he felt for me. If I stayed cold to him long enough, Cicero would realize his feelings were just something momentary or hormonal and let it go.

"Don't lie to me!" Cicero screamed. He was shaking all over and his face was red.

"I'm not lying! Garnag hasn't said anything to me about whatever your punishment was or what it was for, although now I'm starting to wonder. You've never felt guilty for anything you've ever done," I yelled back.

"Cicero doesn't feel guilty. Cicero did what had to be done. Cicero just doesn't want the Listener to act like she's better than him with her morals." The jester backed away with his fists clenched.

"I have never acted like I was better than anyone here," I said stunned by the accusation. How long had Cicero felt that way?

"Yes, you do! 'It's wrong. They're innocent. I don't like that.' Hecate likes to forget she is an assassin like the rest of us," Cicero mocked me pitching his voice just like mine.

"Keeper, you are dismissed," I growled pointing towards my door. Cicero turned and stomped out of my room. I followed him to make sure he didn't lash out at any of the initiates. It had happened before, especially if he perceived the slightest fault of their behavior around the Night Mother's shrine.

Thankfully, the Keeper went straight to his room. I heard things being broken behind the door, but I left him alone. They were his possessions and he could clean up the mess afterwards.

"Geldii," I called to the bosmer who was walking past, "watch the Keeper for a bit. If he comes out of his room and looks like he is going to strangle someone, tackle him and send someone to get me."

"Yes, ma'am," the slight elf said saluting cheerfully. She had a bubbly nature that seemed so out of place with the steel armor she wore.

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 7 Rain's Hand 4E 204 9:30 AM<strong>

"Maybe I should take one of the initiates," I said trying to sound casual. The thought of being alone with Cicero for a prolonged period of time both thrilled and scared me. I missed the two of us talking, laughing, and dancing. There was no time for that now with so many people in Sanctuary. At the same time, I didn't want the two of us fighting again and I especially didn't want to give in and share a tent under the spring sky. If I was going to stop this, whatever this is, I had to stop it completely. "Get to know them better."

"This sort of mission is not when you take a green recruit," Cicero said smiling lopsidedly. If he was still mad about last week then he wasn't showing it at all. "Cicero is the most experienced one here. Take him."

"I'll be gone close to a week. You might miss Mother's oiling," I said gesturing to the giant coffin. I knew I was making excuses at this point. I could just tell Cicero "no" and he would obey. He always understood and obeyed.

"Cicero will take that chance," he said calmly as he pulled on the curtain that hid the shrine when he oiled the Night Mother. It fell into place closing off the area. He placed the cleaning supplies on the floor next to the wall. "Cicero is ready whenever you are."

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 9 Rain's Hand 4E 204 3:00 PM<strong>

Cicero and I had stopped thirty minutes outside of Rorikstead to take a break from riding. It was a beautiful spring day and I felt a need to lie on the thick green grass with the multitude of wild flowers and just take in the blue sky and white fluffy clouds above.

Nearby I saw a herd of goats nibbling on grass. Our own horses, Shadowmere and a nameless brown mare, were also enjoying the fresh food.

I was lying on my back with my arms crossed behind my head. Cicero was lying with his head next to mine, but his body was pointed in the opposite direction. A cool breeze picked up and blew dandelion fluff into the air.

The last two days of travel hadn't been too bad. Cicero kept his distance and other than muttering quietly to himself, we hadn't talked much. I didn't mind because I was not in the mood to speak. Once the initial rage passed, I started to question my plan.

Ulfric's army would be camped out, making security a joke, but there were still a lot more of them than the two of us. Could I honestly sneak into a military camp, slit the throat of their leader, and escape alive? It would be easy enough if I did it while the fake Dragonborn was asleep. But I wanted to know why. Why had this woman taken my name for her own? For a culture that was so concerned with honor, how could she rationalize this theft?

"Cicero hates clouds," Cicero stated. I was amused by the venom in his voice.

"Even white, fluffy ones like these?" I asked gesturing.

"Yes," Cicero frowned. "The sky should be dark like the void. The cold of space and the terror of midnight. Not…this."

"You just have to make a game of it," I said trying to not laugh. "Like how that one looks like a girl milking a cow. Or that one that looks like a mudcrab."

"What about that one that looks like a dragon?" Cicero asked pointing eastward.

I turned and gasped. "That's not a cloud. That's a dragon!" I scrambled to my feet. I grabbed Cicero's hand and dragged him towards Shadowmere. She was much faster than his mount and could tolerate our weight with no problem. "Hurry, it's headed towards Rorikstead."

"Who cares?" Cicero asked confused as he mounted behind me.

"I do," I said. I might kill for money, but that didn't mean I was going to stand aside and watch a town be destroyed.

Shadowmere flew across the plain. We would not beat the dragon to the village, but we wouldn't be very far behind either. I angled the demon horse so we could try to intercept the beast as quickly as possible. I could see figures in Stormcloak armor preparing for the dragon. Some soldiers must have come up for supplies.

"Take the reins," I yelled to Cicero. He didn't really need to guide Shadowmere; she was clever enough to know where to go on her own, but I didn't want to risk her tripping over the straps. I drew Styx and began to breathe.

Everything was falling away. The blurring background, the sound of the wind in my ears, Cicero, and even the rippling flesh of Shadowmere between my legs all faded into the Void. There was only me, my bow, and the dragon.

I'm only fair with a sword and dagger, but with a bow I am a master. When we were still two hundred feet away from the dragon high in the sky, I pulled back the string of Styx and let an arrow fly. I could see the arrow lodge itself into the creature's neck.

The creature landed on a building and released its ice breath on some guards on the ground. The men's screams were cut short as they fell down dead. Archers shot at the beast, but their arrows only bounced off the tough scales. Dragons are incredibly difficult monsters to defeat. Their tough skin deflects most blows and you have to be able to know the weak points. They can fly and shoot either fire or ice with their breath. And most importantly, they are smart as hell. They use tactics, not something most creatures do.

"Don't let the dragon escape!" a man's voice raised about the crowd's screams. I couldn't believe my luck. That was Ulfric Stormcloak leading the defense of Rorikstead. He must have decided to make an appearance for his men. Truly Old Lady Luck had decided to bless me this day.

Still, he was for later. For now, my focus was only on the dragon. I pushed out the deep, pleasant voice of the Rebellion's leader as I drew another arrow.

Breathe in, breathe out. Call the target to you. Serenity and the Void. I released my arrow and it flew until it landed in the large eye of the ancient dragon as it wheeled passed me. It cried in pain and landed awkwardly onto the plain.

I could see Ulfric and a woman wearing dragon scale armor dart forward with their huge two handed swords. I had to admit the two worked like a well-oiled machine as they swung in unison. The dragon screamed in pain as the enchanted blades bit into its flesh. It opened its mouth to breathe again and I sent an arrow down its throat.

It shuddered its death throes and was still.

Ulfric stood victorious with his whore over the dead dragon. As Shadowmere wheeled around to come back towards the fallen dragon, I dragged on my cowl. Ulfric filled my vision as I drew Stxy again. This time I was aiming straight at that bastard's throat. Let's see him Shout someone to pieces ever again after I put an ebony arrow through it.

"Kill him," Cicero hissed. His tone was almost orgasmic.

"For the Night Mother," Cicero and I screamed in unison. Shadowmere's neigh joined us.

The arrow flew and I knew it would hit true. I always know when my arrow will find its target. I crowed in delight, but my victory was celebrated too soon.

The fake Dragonborn, reflexes honed from years of being a body guard, shot her arm out and caught the arrow before it could kill Ulfric. Even from this distance I could see the bead of blood where the tip just barely touched the jarl's skin. I cursed myself for not using poison.

"Are you safe, my jarl?" the woman asked. I recognized that voice. It couldn't be. She reached up and pulled off her helmet.

"I am thanks to you," Ulfric said. That bastard was as calm as ever. You would never know he had almost died. Ulfric smiled down at the woman. "I knew you would prove to be a worthy ally, Lydia."

Lydia. The fake Dragonborn was Lydia. My old housecarl. My best friend. The one who swore to watch my back always had been the one to betray me the most.

Ulfric and Lydia looked to where the arrow had come from and saw Cicero and me on Shadowmere. My affiliation was unmistakable with the trademark shrouded armor. Lydia shook her fist holding the arrow at us. As we rode away, she screamed after us, "Damn you, Brotherhood! Damn you to the Void! I will avenge my thane's death if it's the last thing I do!"


	14. High Hrothgar

**Middas 9 Rain's Hand 4E 204 4:00 PM**

"That was Lydia! Diana's not special friend! Diana's housecarl!" Cicero started laughing manically in my ear. I was already developing a headache from not screaming and grinding my teeth at the revelation that my most hated nemesis was once my best friend.

And she had done it because she thought I was dead.

I was such a fool. A gods' damned fool.

I had mysteriously disappeared from Windhelm. Astrid had assured me that she had merely drugged Lydia and left the Nord in her room. But I never thought to ask what Lydia would think. What she would do.

She had failed to protect her charge from danger. It wasn't even in the middle of a dragon attack or destroying a den of bandits which would have been perfectly understandable. Instead, Lydia had failed while in the middle of a hostile city. I should have known that she couldn't return to Whiterun. Her Nordic pride wouldn't allow it.

I pulled Shadowmere to a stop. We were back near the field where Cicero had first spotted the dragon. I looked back and saw no apparent pursuit. I could only assume they were either too busy showing off the dead dragon or were securing the village for Stormcloak occupation. Regardless, I doubt we were going to be followed.

I scowled angry at myself. The only thing my actions did today was add to Ulfric's glory. Not only did the Bear of the Eastmarch defeat a dragon and save the village of Rorikstead, he had stopped the Dark Brotherhood, something even the Emperor had been unable to achieve.

I looked around and saw no sign of Cicero's mare. I did not look forward to the possibility of riding back to Dawnstar Sanctuary doubled up on Shadowmere with Cicero. The Fool was still laughing his head off.

"Shut up," I said. Cicero ignored me. "Shut up!" I said louder to be sure the jester heard me over his own loud cackle.

"Cicero cannot! It is too funny," Cicero howled.

I turned and pushed the Keeper off Shadowmere. He landed on the ground with a grunt, but kept laughing while lying on his side. I hopped off Shadowmere. "I SAID SHUT UP!" I screamed. I grabbed Cicero by his motley top and pulled him so he was sitting halfway up. When Cicero continued his mad laughter, I slapped him as hard as I could. "SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" Every time I said "shut up", my hand rang against the jester's face. Thu'um slammed against him as well.

Finally, the Fool of Hearts was silent. "Cicero is sorry," he said quietly, not looking at me. I was horrified how red his face looked from my blows. I had never hit Cicero before except the one time he had provoked me over his clothes. Even then, that didn't compare to this.

I stepped away, my breathing raspy. What was happening to me? What kind of person was I becoming?

"Where is Hecate going?" Cicero's voice was frantic as he scrambled to his feet. I backed away some more until I was pressed against Shadowmere. I swear the demon horse's gaze was reproachful. "Come back. Cicero promises he'll behave. Cicero was just as surprised as Hecate. That is all." Cicero's hand was reaching towards me as I remounted Shadowmere.

"Find your mare," I said. I could barely get the words out. "I'm going back to Sanctuary." I rode away leaving Cicero behind with the most bewildered look on his face. It felt like a dagger in my heart when I heard his screams of pain from being abandoned follow me.

* * *

><p><strong>Turdas 10 Rain's Hand 4E 204 11:00 AM<strong>

I had ridden back to Sanctuary nonstop as fast as possible. I stumbled down the stone stairs, not caring that I could barely see because of the change from the bright blue sky to the dark dungeon we called home. How could the sky be so blue and cheerful after what I had done?

I knew Cicero was still hours behind me. Even if he found his horse immediately, the mare had no chance of running as fast or as long as Shadowmere. The poor thing would need to rest. I doubt Cicero would let her; he probably ride her until she dropped. But there was time and that was all I needed.

I pushed aside the curtain that closed off the area around the shrine. I threw myself to my knees before the Night Mother's coffin. I could feel her disapproval even before I started to speak. She knew what I had done.

"Mother, I'm sorry. I attacked the Keeper. I didn't mean to. It just happened," I sobbed into my hands. If she had been mortal, I doubt the Night Mother could have understood me. But she was a spiritual entity and knew my heart better than I did.

"I have to go away for a while. I have to beat this rage that dominates my life. I cannot keep on like this. I cannot! If this is not your will, tell me. Please, tell me what to do." I waited, but as always no words came. It seemed like the only time the Night Mother had something to say other than give the pleas of the vengeful was when Cicero was involved. And why wouldn't she? He was her perfect, loyal, faithful son. Unlike me who was so terribly flawed.

I stood and bowed. "Thank you for your time, Mother," I said quietly. I stumbled out of the shrine area. Below in the common area, I could see my family gathering looking up at me. Nazir, Meena, Eiruki, Geldii, and Elbent were all there. The others must still be out on contract.

I took in a deep breath and forced myself to speak loud enough for them to hear me. I hoped my voice wouldn't shake while I spoke. "Something has come up. I need to take a sabbatical for a while. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I'll return as soon as I can. Nazir is in charge until I return."

"Where are you going?" Nazir asked. "In case we need to get a hold of you."

"I'm going to the one group of people who can help me," I said as I walked past to my room to pack. "I am going to the Greybeards at the Throat of the World."

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 9 Sun's Height 204 4E 2:00 PM<strong>

It had been almost three months since I left Dawnstar Sanctuary. Arngeir had greeted me warmly when I arrived in High Hrothgar. He was the only one of the Greybeards, not counting Paarthurnax, who could still speak the language of man without causing environmental destruction. It was said when a Greybeard spoke storm clouds brewed and pilgrims had to be wary of avalanches.

One look at my face and he had instantly known. "It is the thu'um, is it not?" he asked quietly. Arngeir always spoke quietly, when he bothered to speak at all. I had nodded and he had wrapped a fatherly arm around me in sympathy.

"I feared this day would come for you as it did for us," he said as he led me into the monastery. "I never imagined it would be so soon though."

"It's not completely the thu'um," I admitted. "My temper has gotten worse, so much worse. I have tried mediation, seclusion, and every method of calming I could find. Nothing helps. I hurt someone very close to me. I couldn't let that happen again."

"Was it your friend that you brought when we summoned you? The housecarl?" Arngeir asked.

"No, someone else," I shook my head. "Lydia is a completely different problem."

The Greybeards had sensed me when I devoured my first dragon soul. They had gathered as one and shouted, "_**DOVAHKIIN**__,_" so loudly that the very world shook. All of Skyrim heard their call. Jarl Balgruuf had told me very little of them, but had insisted that I travel to find out more of their ways. Arngeir, Borri, Wulfgar, and Einarth had taught me the full shout for _fus ro dah, _force-balance-push. It was my favorite shout, maybe because of how I had learned it. The same was true with whirlwind sprint, _wuld._

After my training, Arngeir had directed me to various dragon walls, places where the draconic language had been inscribed, so I could learn more of the _dovah_ language. Most dragon walls were protected by resurrected dragons, which gave me the opportunity to defeat them for their souls, which in turn hastened my ability to access the power of the shouts.

Arngeir had showed me a spare cot to call my own and gave me my own set of robes like the ones they wore. The simple wool felt rough against my skin after months of body-hugging leather. When I pulled the hood up, I felt like I was hiding myself from the world. Maybe I was.

The Greybeards left me alone to contemplate whatever I had come here to contemplate. Their way was one of silence and pacifism. I felt like a wolf wearing sheep's clothing among a herd. Except this herd had its own claws and fangs they had hidden.

The silence was the worst part. With their cloth robes and soft leather shoes, the Greybeards whispered about their sanctuary rarely making any sound at all. I had grown used to the various people back at Dawnstar moving around with all the noise the living make. Most of all, I missed my obnoxiously loud jester.

I wished desperately for Paarthurnax to return from his pilgrimage of finding other dragons and teaching them the Way of the Voice so I could talk to him. It was unlikely he would return soon. The best time I could hope for was measured in years. After all, what is time to a dragon?

I tried to meditate about Lydia and the whole Dragonborn situation. I could remember her righteously angry statement about getting revenge against the Brotherhood. I couldn't hate her for what she had done. If anyone knew me in this country, it had been Lydia. For six months, we had traveled side by side to danger time and time again. How many times I had saved her life? How many had she saved mine?

Lydia had to have known I wouldn't have supported Ulfric. She hadn't been there when he had made his offer, so maybe she didn't know about it. But she had known I was an Imperial and that I was pro-racial integration. How many times had I stormed about Ulfric's unfair treatment of the non-human races?

It felt pointless to contemplate about that. Lydia was doing what she always did. She was following her duty. Maybe the Nord had sworn herself to Ulfric or maybe she thought she was still honoring my memory. It didn't matter because Lydia did what she personally believed what was right.

Instead my thoughts kept going back to Cicero. Damn foolish jester! Why did he have to always be so meek and willing to tolerate whatever was thrown at him? I thought of all the times he quietly let the others mock and ridicule him. Of all the times they called him clown and fool to his face. Why didn't he stand up for himself like he always championed the Night Mother?

The worst Cicero ever did was make a sharp retort and smile his private arrogant smile. Cicero knew he was better than the others because he was right and time would prove it.

I was reading when the knock came. I finally had all the time I wanted to read and I found I didn't care for it much. I still enjoyed my books, but it wasn't the same when it was the only thing I could do.

High Hrothgar did not get many visitors. At the top of the Throat of the World, the tallest mountain in Tamriel, the monastery's path was famous for its seven thousand steps. Pilgrims frequently would travel part of the way up the mountain to meditate and contemplate their futures, but very few actually came all the way up. The only exception was Klimmek, a kindly Nord who lived in Ivarstead, the village at the foot of the mountain. He brought supplies every few weeks for free, but he always left them in the chest at the foot of the monastery.

Sometimes I would offer to go down to Ivarstead to bring the supplies back. Klimmek was getting old and the journey was hard on him. His generosity had greatly impressed me and I wanted to repay that kindness a bit by helping him while I was here. Getting to get out for a bit and talking to normal people was undeniably an added bonus.

When the doors of the monastery opened, a cold, snow laden breeze blew chilling me to the bone. Despite the fact it was the middle of summer, there was still snow here. So far above the rest of the world, the Throat only knew winter.

"You're not Diana," a shrill male voice scolded. "You're not Diana at all."

Oh gods, what was he doing here?

I walked down the stairs to the lobby of the monastery and saw Cicero stride in bold as brass, uninvited. His smug grin was firmly in place and his gloved hands were planted on his hips. I was pleased to see he had at least enough sense to wear protective furs from the cold.

"Ah, there you are! If Cicero had known Diana was hiding, he would have looked harder," the jester winked at me. It was the same thing he had said to me when he had visited Breezehome a lifetime ago.

"_Dovahkiin_, do you know this man?" Arngeir asked quietly.

I nodded, not sure if I trusted my voice right now. I wasn't certain if I would sob or laugh. Despite what I had done, Cicero had come for me.

"We will practice out in the courtyard," Arngeir said gesturing for the other monks. They silently filed out. Arngeir nodded once to me before he left.

Cicero and I were left alone. I stood there silently while Cicero chuckled lightly, each waiting for the other to speak first. After a few moments, Cicero stepped forward and took my hand. "Come home," he said simply.

"How did you know I was here?" I said. I had specifically told Nazir to not let Cicero know where I had gone. My voice was rusty after months of disuse.

"There is nowhere in Nirn you can go that I won't find you," Cicero said, his amber eyes intense. He grasped my chin in his hand. The Keeper licked his lips nervously. "Come home," he repeated.

"I'm not ready," I said.

"What could these pacifists possibly teach you?" Cicero scowled. "Their ways are not ours."

"You go home!" I said jerking my face away from Cicero's hand. "Just go home right now! I didn't want you here and you should never have come here. Leave!" I commanded.

"No," Cicero said simply.

"What?" I stopped short. "You cannot say 'no' to me." Since I had become Listener, Cicero had never denied me.

"No." At least he had the grace to look surprised too. "No! Cicero said no. Ha, ha, ha," he laughed gleefully. "No, no, no, no, no!"

"You're not allowed to disobey a direct order from a superior!" I said, both confused and angry at the jester's sudden decision to stand up to me.

"When Hecate is being the Listener, then Cicero will obey any command," the Keeper said, his eyes still twinkling with his revelation, "but for now you are spoiled Diana hiding in her tower pouting over Sithis knows what. Cicero will do what he damn well pleases." Cicero laughed.

My rage took hold and I found myself swinging a punch at Cicero. Fast as lightning, one hand stopped my punch by grabbing my fist while the other pushed me in the chest so that I fell backwards. I had managed to forget how fast and strong the Keeper was. As I landed on my back, I cried out in pain, but couldn't do anything else as Cicero sealed my mouth with his hand. The Keeper landed on me, effectively pinning me to the ground.

"Do you know the difference between us?" Cicero asked looming over me. "I chose everything that happened to me. I chose the Brotherhood. I chose to be loyal. I chose to be faithful. I chose to be steadfast. I could have left Cheydinhal at any time. It wasn't as if the Black Door was locked from the inside. No, no, no, not loyal Cicero. Cicero stayed and waited and searched for the Listener when all the others died or left as was the case with Garnag. I even chose to come to this snow forsaken country. I chose to join Astrid's little sycophants.

"But you! Look at you with all your grace and potential. Pretty, talented Diana chosen of the gods. Chosen by prophecy to be the one to save the world from dragons. The one chosen by the Night Mother to hear her sweet, sweet words. And what do you do with it all? You run away and hide. You cower and bemoan your fate instead of being happy to be so fucking special." Cicero's face was inches from mine. His expression was dark. I struggled, but couldn't get any purchase. The jester had made sure to sit on my midsection so I couldn't kick him like I did the last time he had pinned me down.

"Just tell Cicero one thing. One thing! If Garnag did not betray our secret, why are you so angry with Cicero? What did Cicero do to deserve such punishment?" The Keeper's expression softened to one of sorrow and he released his grasp on my mouth.

I gasped sucking in sweet, cold air. I was afraid he would accidentally choke me to death during his tirade. I was scared, but that part of me wasn't the loudest part. There was another part, the Dragon part, that was too excited by the dark Cicero resurfacing after so long. I pushed that strange, twisted part of me aside.

"You said the Binding Words," I said. I sat up as best as I could with Cicero still sitting on me. "You know how I feel about that."

"That's not fair!" Cicero said. "The others say it to you all the time and you don't get mad at them."

I thought of how Meena, Aventus, and Babette all one time or another jokingly told me that they loved me. "It's different with them," I said shaking my head. "Meena is just being stupid and the others are just kids."

"And what about Cicero?" the jester asked. Although he was still sitting on my lap, he wasn't really touching me. Cicero wringed his hands worriedly.

"I tried, but I can't convince myself you mean it in a brotherly way," I said with my head down.

"Cicero doesn't," he said. His hands hovered over mine, but were afraid to touch.

"For how long?" I asked. The butterflies in my stomach felt like they were going to tear my insides out.

"When you spared my life," Cicero said slowly. He acted if he was going to say something else, but couldn't find the words for it. Gloved hands fluttered anxiously about like wounded birds.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. Maybe that explained why he had stopped sleeping by my side like a brother. Or why he stopped doing all the little endearments like touching me or lightly kissing me. Because it was no longer a fun game to tease, but something more serious that Cicero didn't know how to handle any better than I.

"I won't say it back," I said finally opening my eyes. Cicero met my gaze. "I am not going to say it back," I repeated.

"Cicero never asked you to," he said nodding. I should have known the Fool of Hearts wouldn't need the object of his affections to return his feelings. He was the Night Mother's Keeper after all. "Can we go home now?"

"I still have to deal with why I came here," I said pushing Cicero off so I could stand. "I still have to learn how to deal with my anger."

"Pfft," Cicero said. He reached into his belt pouch. "Once again, what can pacifists teach you? Cicero has the solution right here." He handed me a tightly rolled up scroll. It was a contract for a pirate captain. "Let's kill someone," Cicero said smiling hungrily.

* * *

><p><strong>Turdas 10 Sun's Height 204 4E 5:00 PM<strong>

We were somewhere north of Dawnstar. At least our target was near home. Now that I had decided to return, I was eager to be back to the Sanctuary. Cicero and I were hiding behind a hill overlooking the docked boat. There were easily ten pirates on the deck milling around. Odds were there were at least that many more below deck plus the captain. You could always trust the leader to be better equipped than his men.

"Does Hecate want to make a side wager on who can kill more bandits?" Cicero asked playfully. He was excited as a child on New Life day.

"Hardly, I'm still in debt to you," I said dryly. "When are you going to cash that damn favor in?"

"When it is time," Cicero said winking. "Still there is no reason to not make a contest of it." I nodded in agreement and he laughed merrily.

"Go!" I said as I shot a pirate.

"Cheater!" Cicero said good-naturedly as he ran down the hill. Pirates were already streaming up from below like ants from a disrupted anthill. I sent three more arrows into the ranks before following. I hated shooting while Cicero was in melee. He never listened to me when I told him I needed him facing me so I wouldn't accidentally hit him.

I slid down the hill blindly shooting in an upward arc into the ship's deck after I couldn't see it any more. Once I hit the bottom of the hill, I Shouted, "**WULD**" to get me to the ship that much faster. I drew my ebony dagger and made my way onboard.

Cicero was a living whirlwind cutting pirates down around him. I had to tear my eyes away from him so I wouldn't become entranced with his dance of death. I loved watching him kill.

I turned to my own swatch of pirates and Shouted, "**IIZ SLEN NUS**," ice form. Four pirates froze into place and toppled over. They weren't dead; the shout doesn't do that. But they were helpless as I quickly finished the job. "Seven!" I yelled.

"Eight," Cicero retorted. A perfect circle of pirates formed around him. He laughed as I scowled.

The two of us bolted down stairs to get to more pirates. Some of them were being smart and barricading themselves into their rooms, but it didn't save them. Cicero managed to kick down the door allowing me to set four of them on fire with my breath. "**VOL TOOR SHUL!"**

"That should count as Cicero's," the jester complained. "Cicero did all the hard work."

"We'll split them," I said pulling my bow again. I took down a pirate as he rounded the corner from the far end. He might have gotten into melee if he hadn't been shouting a battle cry when he attacked.

I kept my bow out as Cicero charged down the hallway. "I'm going to get you!" he yelled in a singsong tone. I shot the pirate who tried to jump out from his room as the jester ran by. Cicero rounded the corner and I heard three more go down within seconds.

The final room was the captain's personal quarters. She was clad in heavy steel armor while her last six men were only in basic furs. They still charged the Keeper and me. What did they have to fear? They had the superior numbers.

Arrows flew and daggers slashed and all too soon it was over. My dragon side was trilling at the violence and chaos. The rage was there but it was in a controlled sense. I was channeling it to do what I wanted and to do it well. This was why I was a natural killer, because I had the soul of a dragon. If there is anything dragons excelled at it was destruction and domination.

I turned to tell Cicero that this had been a good idea and saw that he was still in the throes of battle. The captain was obviously dead, but that did not stop Cicero from repeatedly stabbing her corpse on top of her bed.

"Cicero, it's over," I said foolishly putting my hand on his shoulder. I should have known better; you don't come up from behind someone who is still in battle mode. The Keeper turned towards me with his blade drawn expecting an enemy.

"**ZUN!"** I barked using the disarm shout. Cicero's dagger flew out of his hand and skidded away.

"Listener?" Cicero said, his eyes slowly coming back into focus. "Listener, Cicero is sorry. He…"

My own heart was still pounding loudly from the fight. Right after a battle is when I felt most alive. It was as if fighting for my life was the only way I could truly validate it. It was also when I was most aroused. I looked down and saw that by the tightness of Cicero's pants, he felt the same way.

"Shut up," I said half affectionately, half as a growl as I pushed the jester backwards onto the blood stained bed. I managed to kick the corpse of the captain off as I threw myself onto of Cicero.

I drew my dagger and cut the leather ties that held Cicero's motley closed. I jerked the cloth away, never happier that he wore simple velvet into battle giving me easy access to what I wanted. I grabbed at my own leather cursing the buckles holding it closed. I pushed the dagger into Cicero's hand. "Cut it off," I commanded. I needed it off, now, now, now!

The Keeper took the blade and immediately sliced it down my leather causing it to part like the discarded skin of a snake. This must be what it feels like when a butterfly emerges from its cocoon. A few more flicks and the leather was blessedly gone.

My mouth crashed against Cicero's. When he moaned against me this time I didn't pull away. The dragon part was roaring too much to do anything besides sate it this time. I moved my mouth to Cicero's shoulder and bit down hard into the soft flesh. His cry was a mixture of pleasure and pain. My hands curled into claws that I raked down his fair skin.

It felt good to bleed my aggression out onto the Keeper, but I wanted more. "Resist," I commanded with my mouth on his ear. "Resist me!"

Rough hands grabbed my wrists and threw me onto my back. I strained against them, but Cicero's grip was like iron. I laughed madly as Cicero's mouth crashed against mine before traveling downward. I could feel his teeth against my skin; never biting but there nonetheless. This, this was what I wanted! My scream was unrestrained when Cicero pushed into me.

Cicero had to brace himself with one hand as he rammed into me. This allowed me to continue to rake his back with my free hand and pull him close enough for me to continue to bite his shoulder. My left wrist was still firmly pinned down and no matter how much I struggled I couldn't move it.

We were fighting, but we were making love. Just like the pleasure and pain, it didn't make a difference because they were one and the same. Finally, after years of Cicero begging, I finally let go and just fell into the Void.

* * *

><p><strong>Turdas 10 Sun's Height 204 4E 9:00 PM<strong>

When I awoke, I immediately felt both happy and guilty. All that tension and anger gone was wonderful. It was the first time in months I had felt anything besides pensive. But when I looked at Cicero, I felt terrible. His entire front was covered with bite marks and his back was a long line of claw marks.

"I'm sorry," I said softly as I gently touched the pale skin scarred with red.

"Why?" Cicero snorted. "It's not like you broke the skin. Our targets did much worse than you." It was true. When I looked again, I could see dozens of sword cuts and a few bruises from maces from our fight with the pirates. My bites and scratches were nothing compared to that.

Cicero gently took my chin and kissed me fully on the mouth. "It is good to see Diana's kind eyes again. They had gone away and Cicero was worried they wouldn't come back. What are a few love bites compared to that?"

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the kiss. I knew Cicero was staring at me with his inquisitive amber eyes, but for once I didn't need to stare back challenging him. As I relaxed into that kiss, I realized that I had finally given up. Not in a defeated sort of way, but finally let go of my doubt and worry. I belonged to Cicero even if I wasn't willing to say those words normal people needed to say. He wasn't mine, not fully, for he would always be bound to the Night Mother first. But I was his Listener and would be so as long as he lived. Maybe longer.

There were worse fates.


	15. Punishment

**Fredas 11 Sun's Height 204 4E 3:00 PM**

"What is life's greatest illusion?" the Black Door asked.

"Innocence," I answered feeling like a hypocrite as I stood there with my hand entwined with Cicero's. After finally letting go of my eternal anger aboard the pirate's ship, I felt like I was looking at the world again for the first time. Everything seemed new.

"Welcome home, sister and brother," the door breathed as it swung open.

"Home!" Cicero crowed as he bolted down the stairs. He looked the same as ever in his jester's clothes, although the leather ties were new. We had found replacements among the pirates' personal items. Part of me felt guilty for slicing the old ones, but I figured that was the one part of his motley he had to replace every few years.

I, on the other hand, looked completely out of place wearing the fur armor I had been forced to wear since my leathers had been destroyed as a result of my, ahem, frenzied state of mind. I couldn't believe people actually chose to wear this sort of thing. The furs were rough and itchy and the shoulders and midriff were exposed! I felt like some sort of First Era primitive princess.

I have to admit I looked cute though.

I stopped just inside Sanctuary to give myself some time to adjust to the darkness instead of the bright summer sky outside. How much will things have changed in my absence of three months?

"Oh, Mother, Cicero found the Listener! It wasn't even that hard. Cicero found her and brought her home for you!" The Keeper was examining the shrine that held the Night Mother's coffin for any flaws since he had left. He was beaming proudly as he reported to his Mother of his success in his mission. "Ah, there is the Listener now! No doubt Mother will wish to speak to you. Cicero will take his leave." The jester placed his hands on the coffin in a gesture that could only pass as an embrace of the ten foot tall iron casket.

Cicero didn't meet my gaze as he left. I wasn't offended. The Keeper always acted properly in front of his matron. Only outside of Sanctuary or within the privacy of my room would he show affection. I appreciated his discretion. I had no desire to have the two of us hanging off each other in front of our family members.

I wished Cicero had given me a chance to get cleaned up and changed before I was presented to the Night Mother. Some parents might have an informal relationship with their children, but I always imagined the Night Mother as the type of woman who sat primly on her personal straight-backed chair in her entertaining room while she wore only the finest clothes. A distant woman and a little cold, but you still needed her approval despite knowing you would never achieve it.

"Night Mother," I said formally as I bowed. I figured that being as respectful as possible was the best course of action right now. I was the only link the Night Mother had to the mortal world and I had abandoned her last Sanctuary of children for three months.

The only reply I received was silence. I felt a pit in my stomach. This was worse than I had imagined. I had prepared myself for reprimands, anger, and even indifference. But silence? That was the worst punishment Mother could give.

"I apologize for my absence, my Lady," I said haltingly. "I tried to resolve my personal issue as quickly as possible. I am grateful the Keeper came for me. Cicero helped me greatly." More silence. Oh, shit, was she pissed? How am I supposed to do anything if I don't know what she wanted?

The Night Mother didn't always speak with words in my mind. There had been many times when I could feel an ethereal embrace or smoothing of my hair. There had been other times I had sensed her mood; pride, anger, love. Right now there was literally nothing from the Lady. I hadn't felt such silence since the first contract Mother gave me.

I remember thinking that Mother's silence was because she was waiting to see if we were worthy of her leadership. Could the Dark Brotherhood fulfill a contract such as killing the Emperor? We had never killed an Emperor before. The only Emperor to have been priorly assassinated in the history of the Empire had been Uriel Septim two hundred years previously and that had been at the hands of the Mythic Dawn, a mark of shame for the Brotherhood.

Was she testing me now? If so, what was the test?

After a few minutes of waiting to be acknowledged, I bowed and left. It would be up to me to figure out how to gain Mother's favor back. I felt nervous and anxious. I should have anticipated this, but I am forever guilty of thinking only of the now.

As I left the loft that held the Night Mother's shrine and descended the stone stairs to the main room, I saw that Cicero had gathered the family members who were in Sanctuary to greet me. "Welcome home, Listener!" they cheered in unison.

Nazir and Garnag were in the front of the group. Those two rarely went on contract any more. Nazir was busy as Speaker and Garnag was too slow from his years of imprisonment and lack of visual perception. He contributed to the Brotherhood with his wisdom and knowledge. Babette wasn't here, but she was probably still asleep and Cicero knew well enough to not waken her unless ordered. Geldii, Eiruki, and Elbent were in. I didn't see the male elves, Vedave Sendal and Anaril Telind, or the Argonian, Deesei. They must be out on contract.

Then there was Meena. I didn't like the smug look on the Khajiit's face. Her eyes were much too predatory for my tastes. She stood a bit away from the others. Not separate, but apart like her station didn't allow her to stand with the rest of the crowd.

I was thinking I should be sure to ask Nazir what had happened while I was gone when I was tackled by a large blur. Aventus was hugging me so hard I thought my ribs would bend. He spun me in a circle, laughing. "Thank Sithis that you're back!" the boy said, his voice cracking.

"Aretino," I gasped, "thanks, but could you put me down?" When Aventus let me go, I was shocked to see that he had grown another two inches while I was gone. He was taller than me now and he was only thirteen. Not that I was terribly tall at my five-foot-six, but was Aventus' growth normal?

I had no idea who Aventus' father was. The man had never been a presence in Aventus' life. The boy had mentioned that his father had gone into the war, but I wondered if that was a life his mother had told him to sate his curiosity. I had Nazir make quiet inquires about the boy's family and the only thing he could find was that the mother had been a woman of the night. She had died of sickness. At least she had not been one of the dozen victims of the Butcher.

Children take after their mothers in terms of race, so Aventus' father could be any race. Most men and mer can interbreed although it is more uncommon than if both partners are the same breed. Children still can favor the father, so if Aretino was growing this tall it was likely that his sire was a Nord. Which made sense given he grew up in Windhelm.

I just prayed that it was not Rolff Stone-Fist, the man I had Aventus kill to join the Brotherhood. That drunken bastard seemed the type to seek physical entertainment from a common streetwalker instead of seeking out a proper priestess of Dibella. Not that I was judging, but there was a difference of quality between the two. Priestesses of Dibella performed a sacred duty while prostitutes are generally a lot dirtier both in physical appearance and health. Given that Aventus' mother died of disease, I doubt she had been a priestess.

My thoughts were drawn back to the present as everyone but Meena pressed around me asking questions and trying to hug me too. "I missed you guys too!" I said laughing. "Just give me a chance to change to some real clothes and we'll catch up."

"Whatever happened to your Dark Brotherhood leathers?" Nazir asked with a raised eyebrow.

"They got damaged in a fight," I laughed hoping it didn't sound as jagged to everyone else as it did to me. I glanced over at Cicero and saw that he was smiling broader than usual. The jester waggled his eyebrows at me which caused me to giggle.

"…." Eiruki asked.

"What?" I responded. I could never hear that girl when she spoke.

"She said 'Are you back for good?'" Nazir translated.

"Yes," I said smiling. "I am."

"And has the Night Mother spoken to you?" Meena asked. Her tone was too casual.

"No, not yet," I admitted, "but I just got back." The way the others shared a look amongst themselves left a pit of cold in my stomach.

* * *

><p><strong>Fredas 11 Sun's Height 204 4E 9:00 PM<strong>

"Report," I commanded. I was sitting in my room with Nazir and Garnag. We were all gathered around my personal table with drinks of tea.

The last several hours had been me telling the others of the Greybeards and my time at High Hrothgar. I did relate how Cicero found me and his request for me to come home and solution of killing the pirates, but I left out the "climatic" end of our fight.

The family had been most interested in the massacre and had Cicero and I retell it several times. I laughed at the jester's antics as he reenacted several fight sequences. It amused me that I attributed as much to the story as Cicero did. There was once a time I would never join in storytelling and now I was struggling to get a word in edgewise versus the Keeper.

"…." Eiruki sighed blissfully.

"She said 'It's so romantic,'" Geldii translated before I could ask. "You are so lucky to have someone like Cicero around." The Fool of Hearts beamed at the compliment.

"I am," I agreed as I took Cicero's hand. His smile of joy made my heart melt.

Geldii and Eiruki both burst into "Awwww!" and giggled.

"Back to your duties!" I commanded blushing furiously. "I've kept you long enough for one day." As the group scattered, I had summoned Garnag and Nazir to my room to update me.

"What do you want to hear first?" Nazir asked. "The good news or the bad?"

"There was good news?" I asked sarcastically.

"You know when I think about it, there wasn't. So what degree of bad do you want first?" Nazir admitted shrugging.

"Start small and move up," I said sighing. I threw my legs over the chair arm.

"Cicero wasn't too bad after you left. Mostly kept to himself and insisting that you would be back any day. As time passed, he got more and more erratic. Started ranting that you weren't real, that none of us were real, and he had imagined all of us. About a week ago, he came tearing into my room and riffled through the contracts until he found one. Put it into his belt pouch and left Sanctuary," Nazir related.

"Any idea how he figured out I was at High Hrothgar?" I asked.

"No, but if I had to guess, Aventus," Garnag said. "The boy was just as upset at your absence. Wouldn't surprise me in the least if Chickpea convinced the boy to tell him where you had gone. He can be very persuasive." The orc chuckled at an old memory.

"What else?" I asked keeping the topic moving forward.

"The Reach has fallen to the Rebellion," Nazir said. "Ulfric could advance onward, but it looks like he's decided to be thorough on securing the mountains from the Forsworn barbarians and collecting silver from the mines to increase his coffers.

"Stories of Ulfric and the Dragonborn's victory versus a dragon near Rorikstead bolstered his army's morale greatly. The only blight on the whole matter is that the Dragonborn didn't devour the dragon's soul. Rumor is that she claims she no longer needs to generate more thu'um, but it is being squashed as fast as it is mentioned. Ulfric does not want people to know about it." The Redguard glanced at me.

"Did Cicero explain who the false Dragonborn is?" I asked.

"Sort of," Garnag said. "It was kind of jumbled. Chickpea didn't seem to want to speak about the matter."

I quickly explained the concept of housecarls and how Lydia had been able to learn a Shout so quickly. I was a bit amused to realize that I trusted these two with the information when I would never had shared it back in Falkreath. "She must have absorbed more from watching me in battle than I realized," I admitted. I shook my head sadly. "Lydia thinks I am dead and that it is because of the Brotherhood."

"I don't doubt that Astrid had left a note for you with the Brotherhood's signature Black Hand," Nazir suggested. "It was a common tactic she liked to use for intimidation and to help spread our name."

"What are you going to do about her?" Garnag asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Once things settle down here again, I might do something. I might let it go. I feel I owe her at least to know the truth. For now, let's focus on the Sanctuary."

"Babette and Aventus finally had their little talk," Nazir said looking through his notes. "Normally I wouldn't even mention it, but our little vampire is rather upset about it. I'd keep out of her sight for a few days if I were you."

"That bad?" I winced.

"Aventus wasn't mad that she's a vampire if that's what you're wondering," Nazir assured me. "It's just that he refused Babette's offer of immortality. I didn't ask why and frankly I don't want to know."

"Babette is a wreck though," Garnag said. "She goes out hunting every night. Comes back covered in blood and her eyes glowing. Scary as hell."

"Nazir, start making arrangements for Aventus to be enrolled in the Bard's College in Solitude," I said sighing. "Maybe some time apart will be good for both of them."

"Is that wise, Listener?" Nazir asked. "With the war progressing the way it is, it is a matter of time until Ulfric makes his way to Solitude."

"Until that time, Solitude is probably the safest place in Skyrim for our boy. Solitude is an Imperial outpost, so the fact Aventus is Imperial won't be used against him. I think it is important that he get normal socialization too. Letting him train with the bards will be beneficial for him personal and us as a whole. Having a set of eyes and ears in the biggest gossip mill of Skyrim will alert us to more opportunities faster," I replied. My heart hurt thinking of sending our boy away, but it was time for him to grow up to be a man—and I think if he stayed here Aventus would be damaged. More than he already was.

"Safer than Sanctuary?" Garnag asked.

"Maybe," I said sipping my tea. "What else?"

The two men exchanged a glance. Garnag grimaced and nodded to Nazir to lead. I knew I was not going to like what the Redguard was going to tell me before he started talking.

"It's Meena," Nazir hedged.

"What about her?" I asked. That cat was always getting into trouble.

"She started a campaign to be the Listener while you were gone."

I started laughing which was not the reaction Nazir and Garnag were expecting. Nazir had seen how mad I had been when I heard about the false Dragonborn…about Lydia pretending to be me for Ulfric. This was exactly the sort of thing I had blown up at in the past.

"And how has she been managing with that?" I chuckled once I got my breath back.

"Mostly the Khajiit has been talking to the male elves. I think she has them half convinced she can do it and it is in their interest to join her," Garnag said.

"Elbent informed us about the plot," Nazir said. I tucked that bit of information away. It was good that our social assassin was on our side. I was just a little disappointed that there were sides to take.

"What worries me the most is Meena's supposed conversation with the Night Mother," Garnag continued.

"She's claimed that the Night Mother spoke to her?" I asked.

"No, and luckily for her. If she had and couldn't produce the Binding Words, I have no doubt Chickpea would have killed her," Garnag admitted. Why did he look so guilty when he said that? "Meena said she prayed to the Night Mother that if you didn't return, then she would gladly take your place. And if you did dare to show your face after your shameful behavior, then if the Night Mother didn't talk to you she would take it as a sign in her favor."

"That explains her question," I frowned. "Is there anything else?"

"No, that's all," Nazir said gathering his notes. "We're running out of contracts. I hope the Night Mother is just waiting until Morndas to speak to you because we could use the work." The Night Mother usually gave me the most contracts during Morndas; the day after Cicero oiled her. Sometimes unusual contracts would be given sooner.

"I'll let you know as soon as I do," I promised. "Dismissed. Go get some rest."

As the two men left, I noticed they veered to the side. I looked and saw a sullen Babette standing in the doorway. I thought it was a bit funny that two full grown men were scared of a small girl, but to be fair she was a three hundred year old vampire who had just been rejected for possibly the first time in a lifetime.

"Babette, why don't you come on in?" I asked. "Nazir, please close the door when you leave." Babette shuffled in allowing Nazir and Garnag space to get past. The Redguard nodded his thanks to me as he closed the door. "How can I help you, hon?"

"I suppose you heard," Babette said, her voice monotone. I was a bit worried by how haggard she looked. Babette was always neat and clean. It was probably a side result of being an alchemist and part time healer. Now her clothes were wrinkled and dirty. The normally pretty brown hair was greasy and tangled from not being brushed.

"I don't know the details," I said. I sat on my bed and patted the space by my side. Babette climbed up and curled onto my lap. She was so small. It really was no wonder she was able to trick her prey into inviting her into their homes making them easy targets. "What happened?"

"Aventus cornered me and said he was tired of not knowing what everyone else did. He said it was not fair that he had been here almost as long as Meena, but was being treated like an idiot. So, I told him," Babette said.

"Nazir said he took it well," I offered.

"He did. It was very adorable. His face was "Oooooh," like a torch being lit. I told him all about being a vampire, how beneficial it was, how you do not age, how strong you become. He seemed very intrigued, but when I said I would give him the Dark Gift, Aventus hesitated. When I pushed him on it, Aventus said that he was flattered, but he wanted to grow up to be an adult. That he did not want to be a child the rest of his life and that there was someone he liked. He had to grow up so she would see him as a man and not a boy."

"Did he say who?" I asked.

"No, but I know who," Babette growled.

It had to be Eiruki. She was only nineteen and was soft in all the right places. Being only six years older than Aventus would make her a natural older sister complex for the boy.

"I'm sorry," I said hugging Babette.

"I waited too long," Babette sighed. "I kept thinking that I had more time. I could wait a little longer and let Aventus get a little more mature. Or let him get settled into the Brotherhood. Let him love me a little more. But he only sees me as a little sister and not a lifelong mate. I lost my only chance, Listener."

"Maybe another chance will present itself," I suggested. "It's not like you planned on Aventus to begin with."

Babette shook her head. "I doubt it. Even if we found another child, what are the odds of them having just the right mix of childlike innocence and assassin's pragmatism? No, I suspect I will spend the rest of my days alone."

"I'll spend as many of them with you as possible," I said. "As the Dragonborn, I am going to live a long time just like the dragons."

"I'm sorry," Babette said with real understanding.

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 21 Sun's Height 204 4E 6:00 PM<strong>

"This tastes terrible," I lamented. "Can't you sweeten it up any?"

"Death should taste bitter," Babette said simply. "If you do not like my remedy, I suggest you stop needing it."

"Believe me. The way things have been going this last week, I haven't," I complained. It seemed every time I had a moment alone with Cicero was interrupted by Meena checking in for one reason or another. Almost always she would innocently ask if the Night Mother had spoken to me effectively ending any shenanigans Cicero and I might have enjoyed.

Although the draught could be drunk immediately after sex, it was best to drink it daily. I met Babette faithfully so she could make a fresh pot. I had no intention of bearing a child. Cicero was enough of a handful.

"Meena is giving you trouble?" Babette asked. I nodded. "Still no word from the Night Mother?"

"No, and I'm worried," I said. "Meena is planning something and I feel if I confront her it will play into her hands."

"Everything in good time, I suppose," Babette said as she cleaned up. "I do enjoy these little evening chats, Listener." She smiled; it was her first real one since I came back.

I was walking back to my room when Meena intercepted me. "Hecate," she stated her voice too loud for normal conversation, "has the Night Mother spoken to you?"

"You know she hasn't," I said. I looked around and noticed that all of the Brotherhood was in attendance. Meena was wearing her shrouded armor while I was only in wool shirt and pants. I had not crafted new armor yet. The Khajiit's tail lashed about in excitement.

It was time.

"It seems to Meena that the Listener is a position no longer being filled," the cat gloated. She placed her paws on her hips. "Meena prayed to the Night Mother and the Night Mother answered with her silence. Meena challenges for Hecate for leadership of the Dark Brotherhood!"

I was pleased to hear Cicero's indignant scream at Meena's challenge. I was also glad that Nazir and Elbent had maneuvered so they could restrain the Keeper from interfering with this showdown. I couldn't be worried about him while this was going on.

"Don't do this, Meena," I warned.

"What can you possibly do?" Meena smirked. "Surrender."

"Never," I said. "You want the Brotherhood and it is going to be over my dead body."

Meena had the grace to look a little taken aback by that statement. She must have thought she could beat me into submission and inherit the position of Listener. It seemed to fit what I knew of Khajiit culture. Like many predators, they don't like to fight to the death. It can weaken the challenger and leaves you short one member. However, the Khajiit glanced around the room and decided the loss of face would be too much to back down now.

Besides there was something I had that she wanted and no cat worth her fur ever backed down from that challenge.

"So be it!" Meena yowled as she swung at me claws extended.

If you ever have to brawl a Khajiit and you're not a Khajiit, you have to be faster than your opponent. The catkin are natural fighters with their protective fur, sharp fangs, and deadly claws. And they are fast!

Meena didn't know that I was faster.

The Khajiit never saw my training with Cicero when he taught me how to dance. Traditional dancing was combined with a combat style to force me to learn how to watch my opponent's body language so I could anticipate what they were going to do next.

Meena never had a chance to hit me as I weaved among her strikes. "I thought we were going to fight, cat," I taunted laughing mockingly.

"Don't laugh at me!" she growled. Her anger made her swings wilder and easier to read.

If someone calls your authority into question, you cannot just beat them. You have to defeat them completely. Not only does this prevent the usurper from trying a second time, it also discourages others from getting the same idea.

"You will never have Cicero," I said leaning in close so only Meena would hear me. "Even if you managed to become Listener, he would follow your command, but only as Keeper. Cicero's heart only belongs to the Night Mother."

"The male promised Meena if she became Listener, he would lay with her," Meena said, her breathing heavy. Attacks take a lot more effort than dodging especially if the defender is using minimal movement like I was.

"That's because he's much too softhearted for his family to just tell you 'no', although 'never' would have been more appropriate," I sneered. "I'm the Listener and I will be around a lot longer than you'll ever live, cat."

"Oh, who's the racist one now, Imperial?" Meena snarled. "Meena is strong, fast, and smart. She can do just as well as Listener as you."

"No, Meena, you wouldn't," I said calmly. It was time to end this. "Being Listener is a lifelong position, just like everything else in the Brotherhood. You cannot get bored and quit one day."

As the Khajiit swung her claws, my hand lashed out and caught her wrists. Meena mewed in surprise at my sudden grip. My other hand snuck out and grabbed her other wrist. Before the cat could react, I slammed my foot into her soft midriff. I winced at the impact of my normal shoes against her reinforced armor, but I didn't let that stop me.

As Meena hunched over with pain, I slammed my head into hers. Head butts are always an attack that hurts both sides, but the aggressor also always has the advantage. As the cat reeled back, I twisted so she flipped onto her back with her arms wrenched up behind her.

"I would have never surrendered," I said with one foot on Meena's neck, "but that doesn't mean you can't. I obey the Tenets, sister. Do you yield?"

Meena nodded slowly and managed to roll so her stomach was presented to me to show her sincerity. I immediately released her and offered a hand to help her up.

I was a bit startled when I heard a high pitched female voice start screaming, "She did it! She did it!" I looked and saw Eiruki jumping up and down excitedly pumping her fist in the air.

I turned to the gathered Family. "Just because I left for three months does not mean I am weak or not dedicated to this group. It also will not happen again. I am here and I am the Listener!" I pointed towards the Night Mother's shrine. "I would also remind everyone that the Night Mother is our Matron and she speaks when she wills it. The Lady does not bend to our will or our schedule. We bend to hers as loyal children. Dismissed!"

The others scattered at my command until only Cicero and I were left in the main room. The Keeper was laughing wildly at the turn of events. There would have been a time I would have been annoyed, but now I realized that was Cicero's way of expressing shock.

I started to turn towards my room when I heard, _"Daughter, approach me."_

I looked towards the Night Mother's shrine. I could feel her presence demanding my attention. I followed the Unholy Matron's summon and Listened as she finally gave me the pleas of the vengeful. I carefully filed them away to tell Nazir. The Night Mother exuded both pride and smugness.

I had passed her test and understood her message. You can be replaced. Do not leave the Brotherhood for so long again.

The Night Mother has never been described as kind or forgiving. If anything she was known for being ruthless and ambitious. This woman had been known for her calling card of a white stone and black stone left in the eyes of her victims and was famous for sacrificing her children to Sithis.

Almost dying for shirking my duty? Not surprising. However, it made me wonder what exactly had Garnag done that deserved to be imprisoned for over a decade? And if Cicero had also been punished, what was his punishment and what was his crime?


	16. Blood on the Ice  Part 1

**Turdas 24 Sun's Height 204 4E 6:00 PM**

"And I say we ignore it!" Nazir's voice was angry. I don't think I've ever heard the Redguard so emotional before, not even right after Falkreath fell.

"We do not ignore a contract from the Night Mother," Garnag protested. The two men were at the dining table. Garnag was seated at one of the benches while Nazir was preparing dinner. Both looked pissed off.

Cicero and I had just come in from swimming in the ocean so we were clad in only our underclothes. "What's the problem?" I asked as I toweled my long, black hair dry. Cicero flopped onto a bench and started munching on the various vegetables Nazir had chopped up for dinner.

"Can't you put on some clothes first?" Nazir huffed trying to ignore the Keeper's and my state of undress.

"Probably would have if I hadn't entered Sanctuary to the sound of yelling," I said casually. I draped the towel so it covered my top half to appease Nazir a bit. "The sooner you tell me what the two of you are arguing about, the sooner I'll dress."

"Nazir wants to discard a mission from the Night Mother," Garnag said scowling. Cicero looked up frowning. Nazir was treading very close to disrespecting our Matron.

"Do you remember the Grieving Mother from the most recent list of contracts?" Nazir asked me. I nodded. She had been one of several contacts the Night Mother had given me after I had defeated Meena for the position of Listener.

"I decided to visit her first since she is in Windhelm," Nazir explained as he grabbed the plate of vegetables from Cicero and dumped them into his stew. He glared at the Keeper who just stuck his tongue out in retaliation. "It is Tova Shatter-Shield. The woman is a gods-damned wreck. I could smell the alcohol off her breath from fifteen feet away. She wants the Butcher dead."

I whistled softly. The Butcher was a serial killer who has been plaguing Windhelm for the last three years. His first victim had been Friga Shatter-Shield, Tova's twenty-five-year-old daughter. I had never met the young woman, but everyone who spoke of her to me only had the kindest things to say. No parent should ever have to bury their child especially one who was at the prime of her life, but it must have been especially hard on Tova since Friga had a twin sister, Nilsine. I didn't want to imagine seeing my dead child's face every day.

Nilsine could have died at my hands when my first contract included her as an optional bonus. An old family friend, Muiri, had visited them after Friga died. She had trusted a con artist named Alain Dufont who wanted to exploit the family during their time of mourning. When his plot was discovered, Dufont had been thrown out on his ass and Muiri with him. Muiri had felt bitter about what she considered a betrayal from the Shatter-Shields and requested Nilsine's death as payback.

I had refused the optional kill. I didn't feel Nilsine had done anything to deserve death and the thought of how that would have destroyed Tova was too much to consider. Muiri had been disappointed, but frankly I hadn't had it in me to care. Woman should have had better taste in men.

"Oh! Cicero's heard about the Butcher! Interesting knife work! Hhehheh, just stab stab stab stab stab stab stab," Cicero mimed stabbing the table. He paused, thoughtful, "And then, stab stab stab stab stab stab!"

"Eloquent, my dear Keeper," I said sardonically. I turned back to the original topic. "Nazir, that's a hard task, but not impossible."

"I know, but I cannot in good conscience send anyone into that," Nazir admitted. "Everyone knows the Butcher hunts only women. I send a male and it is unlikely he'll even get a hint of the killer. I send a female and we risk one of our sisters becoming the next victim."

"Let the Brotherhood decide if they want the prestige," Garnag countered. "You don't have to specifically assign the task, just let someone take it for their own. Assassins die all the time on assignment. Why are you making this personal, Nazir?"

"Because those kids are too green for a killer like this!" Nazir responded. "He's been killing for at least three years exclusively in one of the most fortified cities of Skyrim and the militia is nowhere close to catching him. He's good, very good."

"Then we recruit him," Cicero said quietly. We all turned to stare at the Keeper who was sitting very still suddenly. "He's one of us, so we ask him to join our family."

"What about the contract?" Nazir asked. He sounded hopeful at the alternate solution.

"The Black Sacrament only demands a life. There have been instances in the past where the Brotherhood was hired for other tasks via the Sacrament, but a life must always be paid," Garnag said slowly as if he was tasting the idea. The orc nodded, "Yes, I think if we could arrange a death for payment, we could propose that this Butcher join us instead."

"But he's a serial killer," I protested uncomfortable with this turn of events. "Usually having an initiate kill is a way to bind them to us in blood. This person is going to be pretty inured to the thought of murder."

"The only thing that matters is that he's willing to kill for the Brotherhood," Garnag reminded me. "If he can follow commands, then he's one of us."

"I'll take the contract," I sighed as I picked up the details Nazir had written on a scrap of parchment. "Of the women, I have the most experience."

"Cicero will go too!" Cicero said jumping up.

"No, my dear jester," I shook my head, "not this time."

"Why not?" Cicero whined.

"Because this is not just a snatch and grab," I explained. "Windhelm is only a day's journey away, but I don't know anything about this killer. We're just assuming he's a man since he's been targeting women exclusively, but honestly the Butcher could be anyone. It is going to take time to find out who the killer is, what his motivation is, and how to catch him before he kills anyone else."

"Before he kills someone else?" Cicero snorted. "When did that become part of the agenda?"

"When I took the job," I said.

* * *

><p><strong>Fredas 25 Sun's Height 204 4E 12:00 PM<strong>

"Damned place is closed again," I muttered.

"What is it?" Elbent asked. I had invited the Breton to accompany me on my mission. He was human and would draw little attention while in Windhelm unlike most of the rest of our family and was very gregarious which I considered only a bonus.

Elbent reminded me of a less slimy version of Belethor, the owner of the general goods shop in Whiterun. Both were Bretons with broad shoulders, easy grins, and ridiculous brown mutton chops. The biggest difference was that Elbent didn't make you feel like he was evaluating how much you were worth while he talked to you. Bretons are notoriously short and Elbent was no exception. He was a few inches shorter than me. Mixed with how broad his shoulders were, Elbent often reminded me of a bulldog.

"A shop called Calixto's House of Curiosities," I said. "I've tried to visit it every time I'm in this hell hole and it's always closed." I smiled sadly at the memory of me kicking the door in frustration while Lydia patiently rolled her eyes at my tantrum.

"What is in it?" Elbent scratched his head.

"I have no idea!" I admitted. "That's why I want to go in so badly. At first I thought it was some sort of store so I could have another merchant to sell trinkets to, but word on the street is that it's some sort of museum."

"I don't know, my friend," the Breton shrugged. "I have been very underwhelmed by the quality of museums in Skyrim. Remember that one in Dawnstar for the Mythic Dawn? It was one room with four displays of old Mythic Dawn clothing while Silus talked about how he was distantly related."

"I laughed so hard," I said. "He was going on and on how the Dawn killed Uriel Septim which was very impressive until the Brotherhood killed Titus Mede and we were standing right there." I shook my head. "Oh well, maybe next time it will finally be open. I have no idea how they stay in business since they are never open. It's time for us to get to work ourselves." I pulled on the Stormcloak helm to hide my face.

The Brotherhood's armory was very extensive. Whenever we killed a target, we would steal a uniform if possible to allow us the ability to infiltrate. We had many suits of both Stormcloak and Imperial armor in our coffers thanks to the war.

Elbent and I walked to the Palace of Kings and were given immediate access to the barracks. Off-duty guards were lounging around, either eating or sleeping in their bunks.

"Pardon me," I said tapping one on the shoulder. "We were just assigned here to help with the Butcher case. Who should we report to?"

"Either Jorleif, the steward, or Wuunferth, the court wizard," the soldier said shortly.

"Thanks," I gave a two-finger salute and left.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I left the soldiers' barracks and returned to the main court. Thankfully, I never had reason to interact with Jorleif, but it was possible the man remembered me from when I had been here previously. As head steward, it would Jorleif's job to remember important guests and their preferences to make their stay as pleasant as possible.

"Elbent, take over for the next part," I said softly. The Breton nodded. Our face-concealing helms would protect our identities, so if only Elbent spoke we wouldn't have to worry about anyone recognizing my voice.

Elbent and I approached the steward and saluted. "Reporting for duty, sir," Elbent said smartly. "We have been assigned for the serial killer case."

"That is good to hear," Jorleif said sounding relieved. "We can use all the help we can get on this. There was another murder recently. A woman who worked at the Candlehearth named Susanna. She makes the sixth victim to date."

"What can you tell us to help us along, sir?" Elbent asked looking at me. Serial killers rarely have all of their victims discovered. If there were six known victims, odds were there were at least that many more no one knew about.

"The victims are all females in their mid-to-late twenties. There seems to be no connection to race since there are reports of both men and mer, but no Argonians or Khajiit. Helgird, a priestess of Arkay, is in the Hall of the Dead preparing the most recent body for burial," Jorleif told us. "You might want to talk to her about details of how Susanna died."

"Would there be anything else, sir?" Elbent asked. I liked that he stayed in character as a soldier and didn't immediately didn't try to leave after gaining the information we needed.

"No, just get this resolved as soon as possible," Jorleif nodded his dismissal.

Elbent and I saluted and made our way to the Hall of the Dead. Each city had a Hall of the Dead. It is where the dead are embalmed and interred in elaborate catacombs that hold ancestors of some families back to the beginning of Skyrim's history. The god of burials and funeral rites, Arkay, has a shrine in each Hall and his priests and priestesses act as morticians.

Helgird was a woman in her sixties who had been a priestess most of her adult life. She had quite a bit of useful information to tell us. "Whoever did this didn't do it for coin. The girl's purse was still on her. Most of her clothes were gone by the time the body was discovered. Cut into shreds, they were. If you look at the cuts, you can see it was done with a curved blade. Looks like the work of embalming tools to me. See the long cut from the left shoulder?" The priestess pointed to a smooth cut along the back. "Most people couldn't tell, but it looks like the muscle was removed."

"Who would have access to embalming tools?" I asked.

"Me, obviously," Helgird shrugged. "Not sure who else would nowadays."

I managed to restrain from rolling my eyes. Helgird was much too suspicious to be the actual killer. "What about the other victims? Did they have similar cuts?"

"Definitely," the older woman nodded. "Each of them missing different tendons and muscles."

"Have you reported this to anyone else?" Elbent asked looking at the corpse on the preparation table. The figure was pale from where Helgird had already drained it of blood. It was hard to imagine this was once a living, laughing human being.

"Who else has been down here?" Helgird shrugged. "I have my priestly duties to attend to. I tried to go up to the Palace to report my findings, but the guards just ran me off. Said the jarl was too busy for the likes of me. I guess they thought I was trying to convert. Figured I'd done what I could and left the rest for Arkay."

We bid the woman farewell. "If you find out anything else, we're staying at the Candlehearth. Be sure to let us know immediately," I said. As we departed the Hall of the Dead, I turned to Elbent. "Are you thinking the same thing I am?"

"Necromancer," Elbent said nodding.

A shiver of cold ran down my spine. Necromancy was not technically illegal in Skyrim, but that was only because the mage's college in Winterhold didn't acknowledge it. The practice was forbidden although the occasional zombie raised in battle still happened. Draugr are undead that protect barrows throughout the country, but those were warriors who dedicated themselves in death as well as life and that particular practice of interment had not been done in at least an Era.

To kill someone in order to raise a golem from their flesh was monstrous.

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 28 Sun's Height 204 4E 6:00 AM<strong>

My eyes snapped open when the door to my room at the Candlehearth clicked open. I was sleeping on my side facing the wall of the small room I was renting so I couldn't see who was coming into my room. I mentally reprimanded myself for not sleeping facing the door. It was stupid mistakes like that that got you killed.

I slipped my hand under my pillow where I hid a dagger for emergencies. If the Butcher had come for me, I was going to make him regret it. Recruit or not.

When the bed creaked from the added weight of the intruder, I flipped over and swung my dagger straight for the jugular. The blade flew out of my hand when the figure stopped my attack by grabbing my wrist. Before I could scream for help, a gloved hand clamped over my mouth. I was pushed back onto the bed while the silhouette straddled me.

Lips pressed against my ear, laughing evilly. "Is this how the Listener greets poor, loyal Cicero?" He released me. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"Cicero," I said, "what are you doing here?" I sat up and punched the jester in the shoulder.

"Cicero finished oiling Mother and decided he wanted to visit the Listener. Rode all the way here as fast as he could, Cicero did!" The jester beamed with pride. "How goes the hunt?"

"Not good," I admitted. After our initial success, we had not been able to find any more clues. The trail for the other murders was just too old. I outlined what Elbent and I did know for Cicero. "This is not my forte," I admitted.

"Why not summon Deesei? She's a tracker," Cicero suggested.

"Good luck getting an Argonian into the city," I grimaced. "Believe me, I already considered it, but she would be lucky to get past the walls. No matter how good at stealth Dee might be, the guards will notice her immediately." I think the only reason we had been able to get Meena in last time was because Khajiit will try harder to go anyplace forbidden to them.

"Cicero will find this Butcher," the Keeper promised. "Then we will go home and sweet Hecate will show Cicero her gratitude." Cicero pushed me back onto the bed.

"I'm on contract," I reminded him.

"All the more the reason to finish this," Cicero murmured as he leaned forward to give me a chaste kiss that promised more later.

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 28 Sun's Height 204 4E 11:00 AM<strong>

"I might have found a lead," Elbent told me when we met for an early lunch. He nodded to Cicero, who was also wearing a Stormcloak outfit that I had 'borrowed' from the barracks. The Fool was still wearing his jester's gloves. Cicero rarely ever went completely without at least one part of his velvet armor, even while undercover. "Brother," he said by way of greeting. I was amused to see that the Breton was completely unsurprised to see the Keeper here.

"Thank, Mara," I said. Cicero rolled his eyes. I was the only member of the Brotherhood who never swore by Sithis. Cicero had asked me about it once and all I could do was shrug. It had never seemed appropriate. Maybe I had just joined too late to pick it up. "Tell me."

"You remember those 'Beware the Butcher' posters we've seen all over the city?" Elbent asked. The posters in question were simple pamphlets that warned of the Butcher, for the reader to not be the next victim, and that Viola Giordano should be contacted about any suspicious behavior. The posters were obviously the work of an amateur. When I nodded, he continued, "I talked to Viola about her suspicions of who the Butcher is. I figured it couldn't hurt to see if anyone had approached her about possible suspects. She said she thinks it is Wuunferth."

"The court wizard?" I asked in disbelief. "No way would Ulfric employ a necromancer."

"Viola said that he has a history with necromancy," Elbent said leaning forward. "Also, get this: Wuunferth has the title 'the Unliving.' He's infamous for saying 'Whatever you've heard I can do is probably true' and is on the outs with the Winterhold College. We could at least check it out since we have no other leads."

I threw a few septims on the table to pay for our meal. "Might as well get started then. I don't want to stay away from Sanctuary too long even if I am on contract."

"Now you know how Cicero feels," the Fool muttered good-naturedly.

The three of us marched back to the Palace of Kings. I was tempted to explore the Palace every time we had to enter it. Ulfric was taking advantage of the summer months and was out campaigning to try to bring more provinces under his command via diplomacy. Lydia was camped out at Markarth to ensure that it was secure from the Forsworn and that the flow of silver was going directly into Ulfric's coffers and not any greedy officers' pockets.

I wanted to know more of how Ulfric had convinced Lydia to join his side. I knew the older man had a honeyed tongue as well as a strong sword arm, but what level of speechcraft had it taken to make Lydia forsake her vows to Jarl Balgruuf and Whiterun?

I couldn't risk it though, not after having just earned the Night Mother's favor back. At least I could finally rest easy knowing that she was not angered that the Keeper and I had a physical relationship. If she had been so quick and thorough to punish me for neglecting my duties, then she would have made her displeasure known for distracting her Keeper.

But maybe that was something both she and Cicero needed after so many years of service.

"Are we just going to directly ask Wuunferth if he is a necromancer? Or are we going to try to get him to leave his room so we can investigate for clues?" I asked Elbent.

"You're the Listener," the broad man shrugged.

"And I am listening for options," I replied. "This is your lead. You know more about the man and are the one with the suspicions, so give me your thoughts on how to handle him."

"How serious are you about possibly recruiting this man?" Elbent asked carefully.

"Very," I replied. I was still a little uncomfortable adopting a necromantic serial killer into our family. I would never forgive myself if he killed one of my sisters. But a necromancer could provide an invaluable service to the Family, so I was willing to take the chance.

A necromancer could build a new crypt for the Night Mother.

We wouldn't need a Keeper any more. Cicero would be free to be an assassin again. He could take any contracts he wanted without having to worry about rushing back to Sanctuary to attend to the Night Mother. No more oiling, no more flowers, no more incense, no more Keeping.

Cicero could just be Cicero the man. And maybe he could finally start healing. Lately the Keeper had more and more bad days. My extended absence had damaged Cicero further. He would ask if I was real and if his mind was playing tricks on him again.

There were particular problems with Eiruki. Her natural silence drove Cicero mad. He didn't like to be around the Nord, but she seemed to have a fascination with the Night Mother and would frequently, quietly sit in front of the coffin. There had been a particularly nasty incident when Eiruki had left wildflowers on the Night Mother's shrine. When Cicero discovered them, he had started screaming about "WEEDS! SOMEONE LEFT WEEDS ON MOTHER'S SHRINE!"

"Our best bet is to establish trust, then," Elbent said thinking out loud. He placed one hand curled up into a fist under his chin. "Yes, that sounds right. Just be direct. Not accusatory, but understanding. Don't reveal our intent just in case we're wrong, but keep our options open."

"All of us should go in?" I asked. This was Elbent's specialty, getting the trust of a target. He knew the right thing to say and do to win a person over to his side. This usually lowered their guard enough for him to kill them, but it worked well in other aspects too.

"I think so. We run the risk of coming off as an overwhelming force, but in this case it is better to appear too strong instead of too weak. If he thinks someone has discovered him and he can eliminate that threat with a slit throat then he'll take it," Elbent said. "I think you should do the talking since you're the leader. It gives any offers authority."

"Okay, let's go," I said. I looked around. "Where's Cicero?" I could hear laughter down the hall where Wuunferth's room was. "Oh, dammit!" I bolted towards the room afraid that Cicero had decided to take the contract into his own hands.

"You think you could give us a copy of your notes?" Cicero asked politely with a winning smile for the Nord mage. "It would be most helpful."

"Of course," Wuunferth snorted. "I'm just glad someone finally came around to get them. Although, I have to admit, as terrible as it is, they only really became completed with this last murder."

Cicero turned as Elbent and I burst into the room. I looked around and saw that Wuunferth's room looked very normal. Well, normal for a mage anyway. There was a single bed in the corner while the rest of the room was dominated by alchemy and enchanting stations and ingredients. Shelves were full of alchemical components and books on magic theory and practice. I could see that most of them were dedicated to the study of destruction magic.

"Ah, there are my companions. Were you delayed by another youngling complaining someone stole their sweetroll?" Cicero's eyes danced with amusement. "I was just talking to Wuunferth about his research on the Butcher. Our dear mage has been making notes of the times and astrological connections of the murders."

"It is good to see some people with firm heads on their shoulders," Wuunferth said. He had been standing over a desk making notes on some parchment. He handed the pile to Cicero. "This is a copy of what I've discovered. Please make good use of it."

"Thank you," Cicero said, saluting. Elbent and I echoed his actions before the three of us left.

"You went without us?" I hissed once we were out of earshot.

"Hecate was overthinking the whole ordeal," Cicero snorted. "Cicero knew when he saw the man if he was one of us or not and the mage was most definitely not. Better that Cicero get us information instead of just standing around awkwardly."

I paused at Cicero's words. Maybe I had been overthinking this whole chase. You cannot expect rational thought from a lunatic. You had to think like one instead. And we had our own personal madman right here.

"Cicero, what would you do if you were the Butcher?" I asked slowly.

The fool turned to me with a huge predatory smile. "Cicero thought you would never ask."


	17. Blood on the Ice Part 2

**Tirdas 29 Sun's Height 204 4E 1:00 AM**

Cicero and I were standing in Windhelm's graveyard, the place where the most recent victim had been found. Elbent had been sent back to Sanctuary to have our arcane specialists look over Wuunferth's notes. They seemed straightforward enough, but none of us currently on this assignment knew anything about magic and I wanted a second opinion on the local court mage's work.

Besides, it would give Cicero a chance to prove his worth.

The Keeper was back in his jester's motley. Cicero hated not wearing his velvet armor, but I had made him promise to only wear it either in Sanctuary or when we were about to complete a contract. The outfit was too distinctive to wear as everyday clothes in Skyrim. I was in my newly made shrouded armor with my cowl and mask firmly in place.

Cicero was softly humming to himself as he slowly swayed back and forth. The jester quickly picked up momentum as he launched into a private dance among the headstones. Cicero's humming became a quiet song as he spun and leapt over the final resting places. Suddenly, the Keeper stopped with his head turned to one side. Without a word, Cicero ran off into the darkness. I scurried to keep up.

Cicero's laugh floated on the wind as he ran through the cold, empty streets following his mad instincts. We passed a fire pit with one of the local beggars, a plain faced woman I had seen around named Silda, warming her hands over the flame. Cicero skidded to stop and danced up to the beggar. She looked scared as an Imperial man pushed his face into her hair smelling her. "No, no, no," Cicero murmured, "this one is sneaky, but not deadly." He laughed and continued to the market place. Silda looked to me for askance, but her eyes just grew bigger as she took in my distinctive red and black trademark shrouded armor.

I shrugged helplessly at her, restraining from laughing, before I followed Cicero on his erratic path. I found the Fool climbing over various vendors' booths touching everything he could get his hands on. He muttered and scolded to himself as he worked. Unsatisfied with what he found, Cicero left the marketplace as quickly as he had entered it and headed towards the residential district.

The stone houses were dark and quiet this late at night. I noticed Clan Shatter-Shield's house had a light on the second floor. Tova must still be up awaiting revenge for her daughter's death. I paused beneath the house wondering if I was doing the right thing by considering recruiting our target instead of sending him to the Void. The Shatter-Shields deserved closure after three years of pain, but every one of our Family had killed someone's loved one before they joined the Brotherhood.

Except for possibly me. I'm not sure if anyone could have honestly loved old Grelod the Kind.

"Listener," Cicero hissed, "this is the place." He pointed to Hjerim, an empty house next to Clan Shatter-Shield. I remembered that it had belonged to Friga Shatter-Shield, Tova and Torbjorn's older daughter. Torbjorn had mentioned it when I had visited for negotiations for better pay for the Argonians three years ago.

"How can you tell?" I asked as I walked over to the front door. I pulled on it, but it was locked. Like that ever stopped me from going where I wanted to go before. I pulled out my lockpicking tools and started to work.

"Quiet, too quiet. Still, empty husk waiting, waiting, waiting," Cicero laughed madly as he spun around with one leg extended into a ballerina's pose. "Cicero can smell blood, old and new mingled into an exotic fragrance."

The tumblers fell into place and I pushed the door open. The large wooden portal swung inward with barely a whisper; odd since no one had lived here in three years. The hinges should have creaked and complained from disuse. Had my jester lead me to the right place?

I whistled as I looked into the interior of the abandoned house. It was huge, but that didn't surprise me. The Shatter-Shields came from old money and still enjoyed financial prosperity when most of the rest of Windhelm starved. I stood up and entered the house before a patrol could notice us. Cicero skipped in, following me.

Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs. The front room was a huge, open area with a fireplace and several mostly empty book cases and shelves along the walls. To my right was a small room that could be used as a kitchen. To the back of the room were steps that lead to a second floor. I walked up the stairs to find another room of a similar size to the main one downstairs. Old display cases dotted the perimeter and there was a broken mannequin in the corner. Further investigation showed a small bedroom perfect for a housecarl across the hall from a master bedroom. I probably could fit close to three Breezehomes into this mansion.

"Nothing upstairs," I reported as I returned to the bottom floor. Cicero was crouched before a shelf full of "Beware the Butcher" fliers. The jester impatiently threw them on the ground as he rifled the shelf. I could tell by the yellow of the paper some of the posters were much older than others. Someone had definitely been here and relatively recently. Cicero smiled broadly as he snagged a broken amulet and handed it to me.

The metal was some unknown black material similar to ebony that drew what little light there was in the room into it. The surface was scratched so badly that I could only barely make out the silhouette of a skull but nothing else. "Well done, my Keeper," I smiled.

"Listener should save her praise," Cicero said as he chewed on the tip of his gloved thumb. "There is more, but Cicero is not sure what. Why the smell of blood if there is no blood?" The Keeper fell to his stomach and glided along the wooden surface with his hands caressing the wood. "Blood, blood, precious life-giving blood," he muttered to himself.

Cicero crawled cattycorner to another wardrobe. The jester pushed it open and climbed in. I could hear rustling and a click before Cicero exclaimed with pleasure. I walked up and saw that the wardrobe had a false back and opened into a secret room.

It was a horrific scene. A dark altar was set up along the back wall. A corpse was draped across it with arcane symbols surrounding it. Bits of viscera and buckets of blood were on the ground. One corner had a pile of skulls. Various embalming tools lined the shelves.

Cicero turned toward me, his eyes shining with excitement. "Listener, would you purchase this house and make this room Cicero's?"

* * *

><p><strong>Tirdas 29 Sun's Height 204 4E 11:30 AM<strong>

I gasped in pleased surprise. Calixto's House of Curiosities was open! I had decided to take a walk while Cicero was passed out in our room at the Candlehearth. The temptation of molesting the mostly naked, unconscious redhead had been very strong and I knew if I didn't get out of that small room I would give in to my desire.

Thanks to Meena's meddling, the two of us had not been intimate since the pirate ship. There was no direct rule against intimacy while on contract, but Cicero was usually pretty strict about duty first, although he seemed to be able to rationalize anything when it came to fulfilling my wishes. However, it was just good practice to not become distracted while on the hunt.

Still, watching Cicero sprawled across the single bed in his small clothes had left me with very inappropriate thoughts. Not that the Keeper would complain to wake to such administrations, but I was ready to try to finish this contract and head home.

I pushed the door open and entered the store that had held my attention for so long. As my eyes adjusted to the darkened interior, I called out, "Hello, shop!" Many merchants live in their stores and it was common courtesy to let the owner know you were entering. I didn't feel like being yelled at for trespassing after so much waiting.

The room was not very big mostly due to all the shelves that lined the walls. I could see various items decorating shelves. An Imperial man in his forties emerged from a room to my right. He was of average height with shoulder length dark gray hair that contrasted sharply with his dark skin. The man scratched at his thin goatee as he walked in. The clothes he wore were of average cut and looked slightly wrinkled as if he had been sleeping in them.

"Greetings," he said smiling warmly at me. He launched into a well-rehearsed speech. "My name is Calixto. Welcome to Calixto's House of Curiosities. What you see before you are items that my sister, Lucilla, and I collected in our travels across Tamriel. After she died, I located here and set up this place as a memorial for her. If you like, I can either give you a tour for two septims or you may look at the items at your own leisure." The man's voice was disinterested and he looked tired.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" I asked concerned. I glanced to the entrance. "The door was unlocked so I assumed you were open."

"No, you didn't wake me," Calixto said as he sat in a chair. "We are open. I apologize if I seem off. It is close to the anniversary of my sister's death and it always weighs on me."

"I'm sorry," I said. Gods, now I felt awkward. "Is there a better time for me to come back? I've been so curious about this place for years, but it seems every time I'm in town you're closed."

"No, please stay," Calixto smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I rarely get visitors. I suppose I am just out of practice. You'd think I would be better at this since it's my livelihood now, right?" His laugh was hollow.

My nerves were tingling with the need to get out of this dark room with this strange man, but my stubborn streak insisted on staying. I had waited too damn long to see this place to leave just because the proprietor sucked at his sales speech. I walked over to the closest shelf and examined it. It was covered with skulls of various creatures. "A troll's skull?" I asked. "Impressive. They are hard to defeat."

"I know some magic," Calixto bragged. "I was part of the school of Winterhold for a while."

Most of the items didn't hold much interest to me. Rare alchemical ingredients didn't seem like a good display piece. Maybe I was just jaded from spending so much time around Babette and all her tinctures. There was a giant's toe which I don't know if it fell with bits of defeated creatures or alchemical component. It made me realize I should ask Babette what goes into her potions before I drank another one. Ugh.

There was a fork that Calixto claimed was Ysgramor's spoon. I knew that Ysgramor was supposed to be the first man to set foot on Tamriel, but surely spoons had not changed that drastically since then. Another item of note was a flute that supposedly when played forced people to dance if you uttered a password, which Calixto obviously did not tell me. I smiled as I replaced the item thinking that Cicero would love to have that instrument.

A book titled 'The Book of Fate' caught my attention. I eagerly picked it up to thumb through, but was disappointed to see that it was blank. When I looked at Calixto, he said, "There is no fate but the one we make for ourselves."

"Live in my shoes for a day," I muttered as I replaced the book. The next shelf was full of embalming tools similar to ones I had seen littering barrows of ancient dead. "Did you explore a lot of old Draugr ruins too?"

"I did," Calixto said as he picked up the curved blade. "Fascinating process, wouldn't you say? In the midst of all that destruction and death, one finds the ability to preserve for Eras. I found some very interesting Altmer books on the matter."

"Where are those?" I asked intrigued. The only book I had seen was the 'Book of Fate.'

"Oh, private collection. You understand, I am sure," Calixto said hurriedly as he replaced the blade. I tried to refrain from rolling my eyes. Ancient books of the high elves would be much more interesting than anything Calixto had on display. "However, if you are interested, I wouldn't mind to show them to you. They are in the back room. Just follow me."

Before I could respond, the tinkle of the bell over the entrance drew my attention. Light flooded the dark room, but I could still make out Cicero's silhouette as he entered the room. "Got my note, did you?" I asked pleased that Cicero had only slept ten hours instead of his typical fourteen.

"Oh yes, I did, I did, I did," Cicero laughed as he pranced into the room. The Keeper skidded to a halt when he saw Calixto. "Hello," he said simply.

"Hello," Calixto returned.

"We should get lunch, sister," Cicero said as he stood next to me. His fingers were like iron as he grabbed my arm.

"There something I wanted to show you," I said.

Cicero tugged painfully on my arm. "Now!"

"You have a lovely sister," Calixto said, his eyes half-lidded. "I can tell the two of you are close." Cicero nodded tersely. "You should keep a close eye on her with that serial killer running around. I can tell you from personal experience that it is life-altering to lose someone close to you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Cicero practically growled as he dragged me out of the shop.

"Ow! What is wrong?" I asked annoyed.

"That was him," Cicero said, his voice low as he looked over his shoulder to the store. "That was the Butcher."

"How do you know?" I gasped.

"Because Cicero knows his own," the Keeper said in his dark voice.

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 30 Sun's Height 204 4E 2:30 AM<strong>

I yawned sleepily from my perch on the roof of the White Phial. Below me in the marketplace was a slight figure in a green dress carrying a familiar flower basket. Locals would recognize the figure from a distance as Nilsine Shatter-Shield although gods knew why the young woman would be walking around in the middle of the night. In reality, it was Cicero in disguise trying to lure the Butcher out.

It would be at least another day before Elbent would be back from Sanctuary, but the notes had indicated tonight would be a likely time for the Butcher to strike. Part of me just wanted to raid his house, but it was always best to not go into an environment that your opponent controlled. It was too likely that Calixto had the house trapped with plenty of weapons and supplies for the possibility of being caught. I shuddered to think what would have happened if I had gone into the back room with that madman.

We could just stake out at Hjerim and wait for Calixto to return to continue his ritual, but that would involve waiting for him to kill another innocent. Cicero saw no problems with this plan, but I was unwilling to let that happen. Better that we suffer a few sleepless nights on patrol than that.

I yawned again. It was boring up here on the roof while watching Cicero aimlessly wander back and forth among closed stalls. The heat of the summer day was long gone and the chill of the tile was seeping into my bones. I lightly slapped my face to stay awake. Maybe I could convince Cicero to switch places for a few hours; he was so much better at staying still while on the hunt than I. I could warm myself by one of the many fire pits in the city and maybe even chat up Silda.

Years of Cicero sneaking up behind me to startle me had honed my senses so I was able to roll away from the attack when I heard the barest of footsteps behind me. Mostly from instinct, I blindly shot an arrow in the direction of my attacker. The arrow flew past Calixto's face which was now murderous instead of sleepy and disinterested.

"Did you really think you could fool me with your decoy, whore?" he growled. He straightened and kicked my hand so that I lost my grip on Styx. The daedric bow clattered on the roof and slid away out of my grasp.

"I had to hope," I said sarcastically. I managed to throw myself to the side as Calixto plunged his embalming knife at my throat. I skidded down the sloped tile trying to get my bow with little success. "Cicero!"

Multiple throwing knives that had been hidden in the basket flew through the air at Calixto who blocked one of them with his own blade as he retreated backwards from the attack. Cicero's scream of laughter filled the night air as he discarded his disguise to reveal his jester's motley beneath.

I grabbed my bow and leapt from the roof. I landed on the opposite side of the market place and near the graveyard. It would be safer for me to be on firm ground instead of trying to shoot on the precarious tiles. Also, it was always much better to intentionally jump instead of being pushed off by an aggressor. I landed with a heavy thud and saw to my right Calixto had the same idea. I quickly shot my bow several times, but to my horror Calixto threw up a warding spell causing them to deflect as he quickly advanced on me.

"I told you that I was a spellcaster, girl," he growled as he backhanded me. I stumbled back, stunned from the blow. A heavy boot to my midsection threw me to the ground. I could barely make out Cicero's form as he rounded a corner to join the fight, but most of my vision was filled with Calixto's hateful face. "You'll make a fine addition to my sister's new body," he purred as he raised his blade to finish me.

A bucket flew from the darkness into Calixto's hand knocking the blade away. The Imperial screamed in rage as he turned towards the attack. Cicero was standing fifty feet away with magicka glowing around his hands. The Keeper grunted as he gestured and a tombstone uprooted and flew into the air into Calixto. The heavy stone made a sickening thud as it slammed into the necromancer and threw him backwards.

I could hear Calixto groaning in pain as he landed on the stone ground ten feet away. Cicero calmly walked up to the prone man. "That's what you get for messing with my Listener," the jester said with an evil grin as he slammed his curly toed boot into the Imperial's face, knocking him out.

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 30 Sun's Height 204 4E 4:30 AM<strong>

"I absolutely adore when people write journals," I said when Calixto awoke. We were back at Hjerim in the secret room with the stone altar. "It lets me see into the mind of my target so much more easily than just questioning you."

Calixto was kneeling in the middle of the pentagram made of bones, sinew, and blood on the floor. I casually tossed his journal before him. Cicero with his ebony blade ready was standing behind Calixto. If the other Imperial made the wrong move, the jester would slit his throat.

"Lovely letter to your dead sister," I said, "although a bit creepy if you ask me. I would have never known she was your kin by that letter."

"Kind of like you and your own brother?" Calixto said sarcastically.

"We're not actually related," I said. I leaned casually against the altar ignoring Calixto's scowl. "What's your excuse?"

"Lucilla was the most beautiful, perfect woman in all of Nirn," Calixto spat. "It wasn't right or fair for her to die! She was taken too soon, so I decided to do everything I could to bring her back so the world wouldn't be such a dark, damned place." When Calixto tensed as if to jump at me, Cicero placed a warning hand on the man's shoulder and firmly pressed his blade against the necromancer's throat. The blade dimpled the skin without breaking it.

"Hardly seems worth the lives of six women," I retorted.

"Fourteen," Calixto snarled, "but who's counting? Morality cannot be judged by numbers. Those other women were wasting their potential either by being sluts or useless. My mission would have brought meaning to their pathetic existence. They would have fulfilled the most vital of roles by providing their bodies for my dear sister."

"It was enough to have a Black Sacrament called on you," I said. "The Night Mother calls for a life, Calixto, and by normal procedure it is yours. However, I have a deal for you. Your life spared for your sister's. Although she is already dead, if you sacrifice the chance to resurrect her, then you may join the Dark Brotherhood. You don't have to be alone any more for you will have more brothers and sisters to love and protect."

I tossed Calixto a box of matches and gestured to the body on the altar. Calixto could clearly see where Cicero and I had poured oil over the body, essentially making the altar into a funeral pyre. When Calixto didn't immediately reject my offer, I let him think it over. It was one thing to kill for a loved one. It was another to die for them instead.

"Your mastery of necromancy would not be wasted," I promised. "With your books of old rituals, you could help construct a new crypt for the Night Mother. She could finally rest in shroud-blessed safety once again."

Cicero's head snapped up at my words. "Listener?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"No more need of Keepers, my dear Cicero!" I said happily. "Mother wouldn't need you anymore and we could fully reinstate your lovely blade for souls for Sithis!"

Cicero's face fell into stormy silence, not the reaction I had expected at all. Before I could say anything else, the ebony blade slid across Calixto's throat ending the man's life. "Lucilla," he managed to choke before the blood overflowed the wound and he fell dead before his sister's remains.

"Why did you do that?" I cried.

"The Black Sacrament must be sated," Cicero said coldly not looking at me as he cleaned his blade on Calixto's body before sheathing it. "Mother wanted this one."

"You're the one who suggested that we recruit him!" I threw back.

"Cicero would rather die than not be the Keeper!" Cicero screamed as he slammed me into the wall. I gasped as the air was forced out of my lungs from the impact. "You had better stop trying to keep me from Mother or I will decide that you are breaking the First Tenet." The Keeper's breath was hot on my face as he snarled into my ear.

Suddenly the pressure was gone and I slumped to the ground coughing. Cicero stepped back, all smiles and sunshine again. He offered a hand to help me up. "Is the Listener ready to go home?" he chirped happily.

I took the hand and accepted the help to stand, although I did eye the jester warily. "A simple 'no' to my plan would have sufficed, my dear Fool," I said stiffly. "Next time I recommend that you use your voice first unless you wish to be punished."

"Cicero lives to serve," Cicero said bowing deeply. The double meaning was not lost on me.


	18. Goodbyes

**Middas 3 Hearthfire 204 4E 4:30 PM**

"Good hunting today," I told Deesei as we returned to Sanctuary with fresh elk meat. It felt good to be out in the beautiful autumn day. The sun was pleasant on my skin. I had been spending too much time inside any more. I missed feeling the road under my feet and the wind in my hair.

I should take a contract and get away for a little while, but I didn't feel the thrill of the chase any more. It had been little more than a month since my failed recruitment in Windhelm and I still felt hurt by Cicero's decision to kill the Butcher. It wasn't that I felt regret at the man's death, but I wasn't sure I could trust the jester any more. I had never seen Cicero act out of turn like that before.

"You hunt well for a land-strider," Deesei said. Her dappled emerald skin was the same color of leaves fluttering in the summer wind. Her toothy grin reminded me of Veezara so sharply my heart hurt.

"Have I ever thanked you for training me in hand-to-hand?" I asked, looking away.

"Probably from time to time, but I wouldn't complain if you did again," Deesei chuckled.

"Well, thank you again," I smiled. I patted Shadowmere who had our kill strapped to her back. Deesei and I were walking beside the demon horse. "It's nice to know I might get into a fight and not be the one on the floor gasping for breath."

"You underestimate yourself," the Argonian said shaking her head. "You did fine against Meena in your duel. Didn't even take one blow."

"I was ready for Meena," I said. "I can handle any situation where I'm expecting an attack, but I am always in trouble when I get waylaid."

Deesei barked a laugh, throwing her head back. "That's true for any fighter, Listener! It's how you react and keep your head after being stunned that matters. From what I've seen, you do well enough." The tracker's laughter was infectious and I joined her.

Once we were at the Black Door, Deesei helped me pull our kill off Shadowmere's back. I stroked the mare's muzzle eliciting a pleased neigh from her. "Go and rest, my friend." Shadowmere shimmered into dark mist to go wherever she waits until I need her again.

The Black Door swung open. The smile on my face fell away as I could hear muffled screaming from below. "By Mara, what is going on?" I asked as I ran down the stairs leaving Deesei and our kill behind.

I bolted past the Night Mother's coffin, through the main room to the corridor that led to my bedroom. The door was barricaded with a heavy dresser and Vedave Sendal and Anaril Telind were standing before the door with magicka encasing their hands. The door shuddered from the other side and I could clearly hear Cicero's mad screams of agony from the other side.

"By the Eight, what in the Void is going on here?" I asked. Vedave had the good grace to look embarrassed as he lowered his hands, but Anaril looked annoyed.

"I told you we should have dosed the fool with a sleeping draught before she returned," the high elf muttered.

"They are only following my orders," Nazir said as he stalked into the room. His hand was resting on his curved sword. The Redguard's shoulders were tense. Nazir gestured for me to follow him as he turned. "There was an incident while you were gone, Listener. I want you to see something before you deal with Cicero."

"LET CICERO OUT! CICERO DID NOTHING WRONG! LET CICERO OOOOOOOOOOUT!" More crashes could be heard from the other side of the door. Then there was silence and sobbing could be heard.

"Cicero," I said as I turned towards the door. Nazir placed a hand on my arm.

"Please, Listener, it is very important you hear what we have to say before you see the Keeper," Nazir said. I nodded and followed, however reluctantly. Nazir had never misled me before and as our Speaker, I trusted him.

Nazir and I walked to the Initiate's room. I hadn't been here since Aventus had left for the Bard's college two weeks ago. His bed looked so empty with all his personal items gone. My attention didn't stay on the empty space for long when I noticed Eiruki sitting on her bed.

The Nord was smiling quietly as Babette dabbed her face. An ice pack was pressed against her face covering a black eye. A bandage was wrapped over her brown hair to cover a long gash on the back of her skull. The beginning of bruises were purpling her throat.

"Will someone for the love of Mara tell me what is going on?" I asked. Things were going too fast for me to absorb it all.

"Chickpea attacked Eiruki," Garnag said as he entered the room. The orc grabbed two chairs and offered me one. I gratefully sank into it. "He found the girl touching the Night Mother's coffin with a pile of wild flowers placed before it. He flew into a rage and started beating her. He screamed about the First Tenet and disrespecting the Night Mother the whole time."

"We pulled him off her, somehow," Nazir chimed in. "I had Cicero banished to your room. The door to his room opens inwards and we needed to barricade him in."

"Nazir, Garnag, you both know Cicero cannot deal with being alone," I said horrified.

"The Keeper didn't leave us much choice," Nazir shrugged. "Cicero can't be attacking other family members. I thought you were going to talk to him about it after the last time he screamed at Eiruki."

"I did," I placed my face in my palm. "The First Tenet is the one thing he ignores me about." The First Tenet, do not disrespect the Night Mother or incur the wrath of Sithis. It was the most open to interpretation of the Tenets and the one Cicero revered the most. "He's been getting so much worse lately and I don't know why."

"I think I am partly to blame," Garnag said sighing. "Chickpea is terrified that you'll discover why the two of us were punished by the Night Mother. He frequently asks me if I've said anything to you."

"He's done the same with me," I admitted. "I suppose you're going to tell me now?"

Garnag shook his head slowly. "No, I promised and I won't break that vow." He leaned back in his chair. "However, it does not mean I didn't happen to mention to a certain Khajiit that Cicero keeps journals for personal prosperity."

"You did not encourage Meena to look through Cicero's things!" I yelled jumping to my feet. The cat's yowl of anger told me that he had done just that and Meena had found what Garnag had sent her to find. "Gods dammit!"

The Tenets were falling apart throughout the Brotherhood today.

I ran out of the Initiate's room to try to intercept Meena. I saw the calico running past with a book in hand. "I'll rend him apart!" she vowed. "Lying hypocrite!"

"Meena, stop, now!" I commanded. The Khajiit halted, albeit reluctantly. Ever since our duel, she had been the model of obedience. I only hoped it was true conversion and not the cat planning until she could try again. "What did you find?" No sense dancing around the bush.

"The Keeper," Meena slurred the title into a curse, "is not the perfect model of the Tenets as he would have us believe." She flexed her claws, extending and withdrawing the talons with murderous intent. "Do you know what he did? He…"

"Stop!" I held a hand up. "You do not going through your siblings things without permission, Meena. I'll forgive you this time since Garnag, your superior, put you up to it. In the future, you will incur Sithis's wrath for violating a Tenet."

"But!" Meena protested.

"But, nothing," I said. I clenched my fists angrily. "One brother's misbehavior does not justify it for the rest of us. We all know Cicero is Void-touched. It's what he is. But his loyalty is also why we're here today at all. Now, put the journal back where you found it and clean up any mess you made."

Meena's tail lashed angrily. "You're just going to forgive him as you always do?" she growled.

"No," I sighed, "I will find out from Cicero himself. He should tell me personally instead of me finding out secondhand."

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 3 Hearthfire 204 4E 5:00 PM<strong>

The heavy wooden door slid closed behind me as I entered my bedroom. I could hear the dresser sliding back into place. The others were not going to take a chance of Cicero overpowering me and going on a murder spree throughout the Sanctuary. I wished that I felt the sentiment was unnecessary, but considering the day's events I felt giving them the feeling of security was only fair.

I quickly surveyed the room and flinched at the destruction. Every piece of furniture was pushed over and most of them were nowhere near their normal spots. By the angle and force of destruction, Cicero must have been using his telekinesis spell to hurl them across the room.

My large bed was in the worst condition. It was slumped against a wall completely shattered. The mattress and furs had fallen to form a makeshift tent of sorts. I could hear Cicero whimpering from within the confines of the sleeping furs.

"Cicero, I'm coming in," I said to give the jester fair warning. I didn't want him attacking me. I slowly crawled toward him on all fours.

"Listener, is that you?" The misery in Cicero's voice made me want to cry. "Are you real? Is Cicero's mind playing tricks on him again?"

'It is me, my dear Keeper," I said. I curled up next to him and took one gloved hand. I placed it against my face. "I am real, you can feel me."

Cicero sighed sadly as he pressed his forehead against mine. I could feel the streaks of his tears still on his cheeks. I pulled his hand away long enough to drag the velvet glove off before placing his hand back on my face so he could feel me more easily. I blew gently against his ear. For reasons I didn't understand that always seemed to comfort him. Cicero relaxed against my shoulder.

"They locked Cicero away. Cicero did nothing wrong and they made poor, lonely Cicero be alone. Why, why, why, why?"

"You hit Eiruki," I said gently.

"Stupid girl was touching Mother again!" Cicero hissed. He tried to draw away, but I held the back of his neck to keep him close to me. His flesh was hot and sweaty.

"You cannot be hitting the Initiates," I said.

"The Tenets say nothing against it," Cicero said smugly.

"I say it is not allowed," I said. I pulled Cicero closer until he was practically sitting in my lap.

"Cruel Listener always telling Cicero no," Cicero moaned. His face was buried in my hair. "Hateful Listener always trying to keep Cicero from his duty."

"You don't believe that, dear heart," I pushed Cicero's face up so he was facing me. I slowly peppered his overheated face with light kisses like the ones he used to give to me. "Things are different now. You're not alone with Mother any more. You have to change because everything has changed."

"Say that you love me," he begged, his lips trembling against my chin.

"I can't," I said as I stroked his fine hair. "The only Binding Words I can ever say to you, I've already said. Would it help if I said them again?" He buried his face back into my hair and shook his head. "Tell me what burdens you. What did you do that deserved punishment?"

"You'll hate me," he cried. "If you won't love me, then you'll hate me."

"I'll never hate you," I promised. "I never have and never will. Tell me." I didn't put enough authority into my voice to make it a command. I wanted Cicero to tell me on his own, not because I forced him.

Cicero curled so that his head was on my lap. He folded his arms under his head and trembled. I petted his hair around his cap waiting for him to speak when he was ready. "Cicero had Garnag kill Rasha," he said finally.

"The Speaker for Cheydinhal?" I asked. Cicero nodded. He curled his body as if preparing for me to strike him dead. I was reminded of when I spared the Fool's life two years ago. "Why?"

Cicero looked at me like he couldn't believe I asked the question. Assassins didn't ask why. They did what they were told, quickly and efficiently. "Why?" he repeated.

"Yes, why? Why did you do it? You always do everything for a reason, even if you won't tell me what that reason is most of the time. Why did you order for Garnag to kill Rasha?"

Cicero, his confidence returning, sat up until he was eye level with me. He placed his hands against the wall, one hand on each side of my head. "Rasha claimed to be the Listener! Lied! Cicero was so happy, but then the cat could not produce the Binding Words. Loyal Cicero could not let that stand! So I dipped honey sweet words into Garnag's ear and he did the deed gladly.

"But the kill wasn't sanctioned! Neither Cicero nor Garnag were Silencers. Neither had been commanded to end the traitor's life. Mother couldn't command us and there was no one else who could. Our action both pleased and angered Mother. It is the only thing poor, loyal Cicero can think of."

"Mother has forgiven you," I reminded him.

"But you haven't," Cicero said softly.

"There is nothing for me to forgive," I said. I pulled the jester closer until I could kiss him. I smiled against Cicero's lips. "However, if it makes you feel better, I could make the condition that from now on you must follow every single one of my commands to the letter and without question."

"Other than tending Mother, it is the only thing Cicero has wanted," Cicero chuckled.

"No more hitting the Initiates," I said trailing a finger along Cicero's jaw. "If anyone has violated a Tenet, you report to me and I will mete out punishment as necessary. Understood?"

"Cicero lives to serve," the Keeper crooned, his madness abated for now.

"Then tend to me, my Keeper," I said as I slid onto my back and pulled Cicero with me.

* * *

><p><strong>Middas 3 Hearthfire 204 4E 9:00 PM<strong>

"Cicero scares me," Garnag said. It was the first time the orc had ever addressed Cicero by his real name instead of his old Cheydinhal nickname.

Garnag, Nazir, and I were gathered in the main room discussing what to do next. Cicero was happily curled up asleep on the ruins of my mattress. Tomorrow I would worry about replacing my destroyed furniture, but that was definitely the least of my concerns.

"Now that the matter of your punishment has been addressed, do you think Cicero will get better? At least to the point he was before you arrived?" I asked.

"I don't know. I have no training for such things. But my heart says no," the orc leaned forward with his hands steepled. "I have a suggestion though. There are more of us now than there have been for a long time. I think we should reopen one of the abandoned Sanctuaries. I think the one in Wayrest would make a good choice. It is far to the west where our influence hasn't been felt for longer than other parts of Tamriel."

"You would have me name you Speaker," I said.

"If you wish," Garnag shrugged, "or one of the others. It doesn't matter to me. I simply wish to be one of the ones to go. It hurts me to see Chickpea like this. Maybe not as much as it does for him to see me, but I still remember that quiet, serious brother with his face forever in his journal writing.

"Sometimes I look at the man you call Cicero and I think 'Who is that man? I've never met him before.' Chickpea is a stranger to me now. I think the Cicero I knew died somewhere in the halls of Cheydinhal."

"The Night Mother assigned you as my advisor," I said. "Do you worry you may incur her wrath by running away?"

"The advice you needed you have received. Wayrest is not so far away that I cannot make trips back to visit and update," Garnag said. "I am a relic of a different time, Listener, because no matter how hard you tried, this is not the same Brotherhood that it was twenty years ago."

"Let's be realistic," Nazir said chiming in for the first time. "It is time to expand. The Brotherhood once spread its Hand across all of Tamriel. There are those who pray for revenge in every country. We are needed by more than just Skyrim. We will always be needed."

"I don't deny that opening another Sanctuary is a grand idea," I said. "Very well. Garnag, pick those you wish to take with you. Be sure Eiruki is among them. Leave me at least one spellcaster. Otherwise, the choice is yours."

Morndas 8 Hearthfire 204 4E 8:00 AM

"Cicero is going to miss Garnag!" the jester wrapped his arms tightly around the orc.

"I'll miss you, too, you mad fool," Garnag said affectionately as he gave back a one-armed hug. The other hand held the reins of his black mare.

All of us, even Babette, were standing outside of Dawnstar Sanctuary to say goodbye. This late in the season dawn was late to come. There was only the barest of pink in the sky as the gray night slowly bled way. It was pure chaos as everyone was scurrying around to make sure nothing irreplaceable was left behind.

Other than Garnag and Eiruki, Deesei, Elbent, Geldii and Anaril Telind were leaving to reopen Wayrest Sanctuary. I had barely got to know these new siblings before they had to leave home, but I was honored to have known them.

As Cicero ran down the line to say his farewells, I stepped up to Garnag. "You mean that, don't you?" I asked, smiling. "You really will miss Cicero?"

"I will. He grows on you," Garnag said.

Cicero was swinging Anaril around in a circle while the high elf grimaced. Eiruki giggled and clapped silently as she watched. When Cicero finished, she threw her arms up for the same treatment. The jester happily obliged.

"I suppose he does at that," I said. I turned and grasped Garnag's wrist to shake his hand. "Represent us well, Speaker. Kill well and often, brother."

"Kill well and often, sister," he responded. "You'll know we have succeeded in our mission when the Night Mother gives you the prayers of those we watch over."

Garnag and the rest mounted up. Choruses "Goodbye" and "Kill well and often!" rang among the Family. As the six rode off, Cicero ran beside them.

"Don't go! Cicero doesn't want you to go!" the jester cried. "Stay!" No matter how fast he ran, the horses quickly left Cicero behind. Cicero stumbled to a stop, his expression one of dismay.

"Don't cry, my sweet Keeper," I said as I stood next to him. I wrapped my arms around Cicero and drew him close. I placed a chaste kiss on his ear. "The Black Hand is once again spreading its grasp across Tamriel. Soon everyone will hear our Mother's voice and tremble at her power."

The Keeper's joyful laughter welcomed the dawn.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks again to Proffesor I. P. Freely for Anaril Telind. Also, huge thanks to everyone who has left comments. They are a joy to read!**


	19. Lydia

**Turdas 5 Sun's Dawn 205 4E 10:00 AM**

I ran gloved hands over the velvet enjoying the feel of it against my skin. I twirled to watch my image in the full length mirror mimic my actions. The flaps of the jester's cap flounced against the back of my neck lightly. I had to braid my hair and wrap it around my brow before the slightly too big cap would fit properly. The motley was pleasantly adhered to my skin as if it was made for me.

I thought of how Endarie had commented how similar my measurements were to Cicero's. Although he was broader in the chest, my own bust made up the difference. My waist was narrower, but my broader hips filled out the pants fine. The only problem was I keep tripping over the slightly curled toes of the boots. I could not get adjusted to the soft cured skin instead of the heavy steel enforced boots I had worn for years.

"It suits you," Cicero said from behind me. I turned to see the Fool of Hearts leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. One hand was tucked under his chin, the gesture he did when he was contemplating something. He was grinning. "Cicero can't believe that the Listener kept that outfit."

"You didn't want it," I said stiffly wondering if Cicero would go into a fit about the motley. We had fought terribly over the outfit when I had bought it. Cicero had feared I was trying to take away his trophy from his last contract while I just wanted to give him new clothes that were familiar. After he had slapped the clothes from my hands in a fit of pique, I had saved the outfit and tucked it away deep in my wardrobe. "I took it as my own."

"The Listener is welcome to it," Cicero said giving an ironic bow. I mirrored his actions exactly. Both of us were staring deeply at the other seeing who would look away first. Cicero straightened slowly and began a pirouette which I continued to mimic.

Slowly the two of us spun around the room, always opposite to each other, but gradually coming closer as Cicero shortened the circle. Finally, we were arm's reach from each other. Cicero placed one hand in the air with his palm flat. I placed mine against it and the jester led into a courtly dance. Our feet danced rapidly across the floor with intricate moves, but my eyes were only on Cicero's small smug smile. I had no doubt his were on mine.

There was a time I could not have done this, but years of the Fool of Hearts tutorage had attuned me to his every movement. We were tuned to each other in a way that was almost psychic, even if Cicero always led and I always followed. I might be master during contracts, but during dance and song Cicero ruled.

Cicero touched my hand so I would spin. Instead of moving with me, Cicero guided me so my back was pressed firmly against his chest. I sighed in contentment. It had been years, before Cicero's flight from Falkreath for attacking Astrid, since we had done the Stolen Shadow dance. "May I?" Cicero's breath tickled the hairs near my ear.

"Yes," I whispered. I had missed giving myself over to the Keeper like this, the act of ultimate trust as I had to submit completely to make it work. Cicero slowly moved as if stretching first my arms and then legs to see if I still remembered how to move with him.

When the Keeper was satisfied of my proficiency, he led me into a dance where he was my shadow pressed tightly against me. The heat of his body on my back was intoxicating. We leapt and spun so quickly I wasn't sure how I kept up. We ended our dance before the mirror again.

"Cicero believes the Listener was doing this when he entered," the jester said, his lips pressed into a smile against my ear. Gloved hands guided mine slowly up my body in a completely different way than when I was examining the motley. It was my hands touching me, but it didn't feel like it with Cicero in control. It was much more intimate.

Cicero manipulated my hands to undo the ties that held the collar closed. After it fell open, he had one hand slip into the opening and touched a breast. I could feel the heat of arousal flush through my body as the rest of the ties were undone and the top parted completely. Looking in the mirror, I could see Cicero's almost golden eyes sparkling with mischief as he tried this new dance with me. Thin lips trailed down my neck, unhindered by my normally loose, long hair while hands explored my body.

I wanted to turn around and bed my Keeper right there, but instead I left control to Cicero until he gave it back to me. If he was going to give it back to me that is. All I could do on my own was try to control my ragged breathing and stifle small mewls of pleasure.

I was guided to my bed and slowly lowered onto the mattress so I was on my back. Cicero rotated so he was before me, but keeping control. "Cicero should be behind Hecate for this, but he wishes to watch," Cicero murmured. His small smile was predatory. Still using my hands, Cicero pushed my pants open and slid my hands down until I was pleasuring myself.

One hand pushed my legs open further before shifting my hips upward. Cicero lowered himself until he was resting firmly against my groin. He ground himself against me as he had me move. Oh gods, had he ever felt harder?

"Do you want more? Do you want me in you?" Cicero whispered in my ear. I nodded, but that wasn't going to be good enough. "Say it."

"Yes." It was barely a whisper, but it was what was required. Both smoked damaged and patched velvet fell to the floor in a flurry. Even after Cicero entered me, we moved in sync.

My mind never drifted when I was with Cicero – my jester, my Fool of Hearts, my Keeper. I was always trapped by his intense amber eyes staring into my soul. He never let my attention wander. Cicero was always demanding of my attention and he always had it.

"Happy anniversary," Cicero chuckled against the hollow of my neck. It had been three years since I found the frustrated jester on the side of the road with his broken wagon and stranded Mother. It may have taken until I spared his life in Dawnstar Sanctuary for Cicero, but I think I had lost myself the first time I laid eyes on the last assassin of Cyrodiil. I had denied my feelings for a long time, but whenever I try to pinpoint when my feelings had become more than friendly or sisterly, I really couldn't find any moment, which could only mean they never had been.

If Cicero had willingly made every major decision in his life, I felt like every one of mine had been thrust into my life. Whether it was being the Dragonborn, the Listener, or Cicero's lover, I had never chosen my destiny so much as accepted it. If Cicero was the Fool of Hearts, maybe I was the Fool of Fate.

"What made you wear the outfit?" Cicero asked as he pushed a lock of sweaty hair out of my eyes. I had never worn the motley before today despite owning it for years.

"I was actually putting my clothes away for a change, when I noticed your little gift," I smirked. The motley had been tucked away in the furthest corner of my dresser, which I rarely used. I had a bad habit of just dumping clean clothes in the wardrobe or leaving them in the basket.

The gift in question was a small lock of hair braided and tied off with a faded red ribbon, undoubtedly part of the locks of hair I had given Cicero two years ago when I had trimmed his hair. Most of it must be hidden on the Night Mother somewhere, but he had left a small token for me and waited all this time for me to find it.

"Took you long enough," Cicero giggled as he stuck his tongue out at me.

"You usually are supposed to just give it to the person," I retorted.

"Where would have the fun been in that?" Cicero said with a mock serious face. I couldn't stop from laughing.

The lock of hair was just another one of the thousand little ways Cicero said "I love you" to me without using the words since he knew it upset me. It was the same thing when he massaged me, danced with me, or tumbled about to make me laugh. In return, I would crawl behind the Night Mother's coffin and hold Cicero when he was having a bad episode or take him on contract and be back in excruciating short amount of time so the Keeper could oil the Night Mother in time.

It would be so easy to say those three little words, but I just couldn't. As a sister or friend it was easy enough. But as a final declaration of commitment, I just froze. I still wanted to be like my namesake, that eternal maiden who ran across the country in the moonlight always hunting and always free.

If I were to say the Binding Words that normal people say to Cicero, I would have given the last little bit of myself away. There wouldn't be anything left that was just my identity. I wouldn't be Diana, Hecate, or any of the many names I had adopted through the years as a wanderer. Instead, I would be only the Listener and that was just too much to bear.

Instead I said the next best thing.

"Best friends forever?" I asked as I drew the Fool in for another kiss.

"Until one of us dies horribly in service to the Night Mother," Cicero promised.

* * *

><p><strong>9 Morndas First Seed 205 4E 1:00 PM<strong>

With the early victory in Markarth last year, the Stormcloaks had been able to push their advantage and took Fort Snowhawk near Morthal in the autumn of last year. In two weeks' time, the army would pick up their blades again to travel northwest to Fort Hraggstad in province Haafingar. Once that outpost fell, Solitude was due west and the final obstacle to Ulfric claiming Skyrim.

Cicero and I were walking in plain view wearing Stormcloak armor with no one challenging our presence. It always amused me that one of the dogmas of the rebellion was Nord lands for the Nords when there were so very few differences between our races. Often the only way I could tell a Nord, Imperial, or Breton apart was our names. There were short Nords, fair-skinned Imperials, and tall Bretons. As far as I could tell, Adrianne Avenici, the Imperial blacksmith in Whiterun, had lived her whole life in Skyrim. What was more telling of a person's race – where they were born or the heritage that flowed through their veins?

Walking blatantly through the camp without a helm proved something else I had hoped. No one recognized me. It had been unlikely because even when I was living as the Dragonborn I rarely made a big deal about it and wore my armor all the time. However, there was always the chance one of these soldiers had been a villager or a guard when I was fighting a dragon attacking their village and would remember the adventurer who Shouted a dragon to death.

But why should they when the "legend" was living among them as their general?

Most of the army was stationed within the fort, but there were still many tents littering the field outside the outpost. Most of them were soldiers who had either joined the war late or had been reassigned from other conquered Holds to help bolster the numbers of the army. The Empire still outnumbered the rebellion despite losing as many provinces as it had.

Life in any army is always the same regardless of what culture you grew up in or what cause you fight for. There will always be the noise of people living, whether that was the clash of metal as men spar, the marching songs, the clang of the armorer, the crack of the cooking fires, or the catcalls of blessed prostitutes of Dibella. I had not served for many years since my required time as a youth, but it all came back with the force of nostalgia. Memory is always so much kinder when you're not in the midst of living through it.

"Did you serve?" I asked Cicero who was walking slightly behind me to my right. I could barely see him shake his head.

"Cicero had already joined the Brotherhood," he smiled wickedly, "and was given an exemption." That had meant Cicero had joined very early since every Imperial must serve for two years once they turn eighteen.

We had reached the center of the camp where the general's tent was posted. A general was always placed in the center so if there was an attack they would be well protected by a ring of soldiers. It also made them more easily available to other commanders if there were concerns about orders. You could always identify the commanders' tents by the larger sizes and the bright banners with their personal insignia snapping in the wind.

This tent sported the shrine symbol for Talos, a Nordic man wearing armor with his head bowed over a two handed sword. Below the Talos heraldry was the personal heraldry of Ulfric Stormcloak. Damn, that man was much too good at politics for all his mastery in battle. By placing the two symbols together, his people would associate them as one. It also marked the Dragonborn as Ulfric's right hand woman.

"Guard our exit," I told Cicero as I pushed the tent's flap open. The Keeper nodded acquiescence as he casually leaned against a post.

I waited a second to let my eyes adjust to the darkness of the tent. It was a big tent with a huge battle map placed on a wooden table that dominated the room. Too many of the markers were Stormcloak blue for my taste. There was a small fire with a kettle of food warming near it under an opening flap to let the smoke out. In another corner was a bedroll for if the commander was too tired to return to her own bed in the fort. A weapon rack took up more of one side.

Standing over the table examining the map was Lydia. The war had not been kind to her. Worry lines marked her face that had not been there three years ago. Lydia had always been stoic and what few words she usually spoke had been playful sarcasm. The firmly set lips of this general had graced few smiles or barked little laughter. Lydia still wore her hair shoulder length with her warrior's braid, but it held more gray strands than I remembered.

The Nord was wearing my dragon scale armor. It glittered with a faint rainbow hue of magic enchantment in the candlelight. The scales themselves were a cacophony of red, green, gray and black. I had not been picky on what color scales I had used to craft the different pieces. I noted that the helm, which was resting on the table, had been modified to include a visor that obscured the face of the wearer. It suited heavy armor design much more since they favored face concealing helms while light armored fighters preferred less visual obscurement. As an archer it had been essential that I could see as much of my surroundings as possible so I could shoot before my enemies got too close to me.

"Hadvar, I promise I have eaten lunch," Lydia said without looking up from her work. "You don't have to check on me, I swear by the Nine."

"Hello, Lydia," I said. I was surprised I could talk past the lump that had grown in my throat upon seeing her. "Or should I say Stormblade?" It was the title she had recently been bestowed by Ulfric as a reward for her latest victory.

Lydia's head snapped up in surprise. When she saw me, her mouth dropped so fast I could hear the jaw pop. I couldn't stop a small laugh at the sight. "My thane?" she gasped. "By Shor, you're alive!"

When I held my arms open, Lydia bolted around the table and gave me a big bear hug. I had forgotten how strong the woman was. It felt like my ribs were creaking. I could hear Lydia weeping while praising her gods. It made me burst into tears too. By the gods, I had missed my snarky housecarl.

"Where have you been?" Lydia said holding me at arm's length so she could drink me in with her eyes. She shook me lightly as if to make sure I was real. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear your hair loose."

I touched the flowing raven colored hair still untouched by time. "I don't adventure much anymore. I guess I got domesticated and leave it loose. No sense doing all that braiding without reason."

"Domesticated?" Lydia arched an eyebrow. "Gods, don't tell me you went and got married." She looked at my hand for a band of matrimony.

"No!" I shouted at the same time from outside Cicero said, "Yes!"

"Who's that?" Lydia asked looking towards the tent's entrance.

"Just my companion," I said kicking backwards at the flap hoping I would hit the jester. At the same time, Cicero said, "Her husband." I started blushing and had to clench my fist tightly so I wouldn't go outside and pound the Fool. This was not the time for his jokes.

"Have you come to join the cause?" Lydia asked changing the subject. She looked quizzically towards outside but didn't push the matter.

"No," I shook my head. "I came because I had a favor to ask you."

"Anything, my friend," Lydia smiled.

"I want my armor back," I said. Lydia's face fell in dismay making me feel like a heel.

"What?" she sputtered.

"That is my armor and I want it back," I said slowly as if speaking to a child. "You have stolen my name, my reputation, and my armor. If I take my armor back, you have none of those things. Give it to me."

"Diana, please listen to me," Lydia said regaining her composure. "I thought you were dead. I thought the Dark Brotherhood had killed you. There had been a letter from a courier to Breezehome. It only had the symbol of a hand and the line 'We know.' I didn't tell you and it was the biggest regret of my life. I figured they weren't a threat. Everyone knows what a joke the Brotherhood is and I thought the Dragonborn would have nothing to fear from a bunch of sell-sword cutthroats.

"Then we went to Windhelm for that disastrous meeting with Jarl Ulfric. When I awoke the next day with a terrible headache and you gone with only a cutting of nightshade to prove you were ever there, I feared the worst. I returned to Whiterun thinking that you would meet me there like we had done so many other times we had gotten separated. I waited for weeks and you never came home, and there was no word of you.

"I returned to Windhelm hoping I would find some sign of you. A whisper, a sighting, anything to lead me where you had gone. Finally, one day I was summoned to the Palace of Kings and given a personal audience with Jarl Ulfric. He showed me your dragon scale armor and told me how it was found scattered on the roadside. We could only assume a dragon had devoured you. Part of me died that day."

Lydia paused to wipe fresh tears away from her face. Instead of tears of joy, they were tears of sorrow. "I was devastated. I had failed you. I couldn't return to Whiterun with that knowledge. Ulfric allowed me to stay in his palace as his guest. He was so kind and understanding. He even allowed me to observe his war meetings. I learned so much about how this war was tearing our people apart. In time I saw that so many people were dying because of the stalemate for Whiterun. I spoke to Ulfric about what could be done and he told me only the Dragonborn could rally the people, but you were gone.

"I suggested donning the armor just to help secure Whiterun. With my knowledge of the plains, we were able to take control from Jarl Balgruuf easily. The army was able to move into Dragonsreach and many lives were saved from not camping on the cold plains during the middle of winter. When spring came, Ulfric suggested that he train me in the Way of the Voice. I was surprised by how quickly I picked it up. I can only guess from watching you train with the Greybeards paid off.

"By now I realized my duty. I had to help my country. I would bear your burdens as I had sworn I would do since becoming your housecarl and end the Civil War as quickly as possible. That is why I use the title of Dragonborn and that is why I wear your armor. I never intended to steal anything of yours. I thought you were dead and you would want to help as many people as possible. That's all I ever saw you do when I traveled with you."

I sighed placing my face in my palm. "Lydia, Ulfric manipulated you. He played you like a fiddle. I don't doubt he sincerely hoped I had died so I wouldn't inconveniently interfere, but he probably knew I had lost that armor before I had disappeared. Your coming to him was probably all of Ulfric's prayers answered. You were the one person who knew the Dragonborn best in the world and it would be so easy for you to impersonate me."

"I offered!" Lydia protested. "It was my idea."

"Probably after Ulfric or his lackeys dropped hints many times. What better follower than the converted?" I sneered. "He needed you to feel it was your idea and not his so you wouldn't question what you were doing. How could you even imagine that I would join the Stormcloaks?"

"If you were alive, why didn't you just show your face?" Lydia snapped back. "All you had to do was pop up at any time and this wouldn't have happened. Were you in a coma, kidnapped, blackmailed? What possibly could have stopped you from speaking up at any time?"

"I…I was otherwise engaged," I mumbled.

The flap to the tent flew open and Cicero popped his head inside. "As entertaining and heartwarming as all this is, Cicero suggests that we need to be leaving," the Keeper said. "Too many soldiers are gathering outside from the arguing."

"Cicero," Lydia snarled. Her face flushed with anger as she recognized the Imperial. Although they had only met the once three years ago, Cicero was very unforgettable. "You ran off with that…that clown!"

"He's not a clown!" I snapped back. "He's a jester."

"Cicero gets that mistake all the time," Cicero said as he grabbed my wrist and tugged persistently. "No offense taken."

"Jester?" I could see the gears clicking into place like a lock opening. I knew that motley would get us in trouble one day. "By Talos, there was a jester during that assassination attempt on Ulfric last year. Diana, he's with the Brotherhood!" A pause. Lydia's eyes narrowed with realization. "YOU'RE WITH THE BROTHERHOOD!"

Shit. Lydia was too smart for her own good. Unless it involved Ulfric apparently.

"Soldiers, to me!" Lydia rallied as she drew her two handed sword. "Assassins! Beware assassins!"

When the sword was at the top of its arc, I drew a deep breath and Shouted, "**FUS RO DAH!"** knocking Lydia backwards so she rolled over the battle table and slammed into the opposite wall of the tent. She landed gracelessly and tangled in the cloth walls.

I spun around and ran away with Cicero still holding my hand. Soldiers were everywhere as we ran. Rather than engage in combat and risk getting overwhelmed, we dodged and ducked attacks as we ran. When I regained enough breath, I Shouted time and time again knocking the soldiers backwards giving us the space we needed to escape.

I thought we were in the clear when we made it to the field and the closest enemy was more than a hundred feet back. Then I heard the yell of a commander call for archers and the unmistakable sound of many bows being drawn at once. I flipped around and Shouted, causing all of them to scatter away from us.

"Diana, watch out!" Cicero yelled as he pushed me to the side. I fell to my knees, but could still see an arrow pierce Cicero in the shoulder. One archer must have held back his attack. I looked up and saw Lydia lowering a bow with a smug look on her face. She had anticipated what I was going to do.

I scrambled to my feet and ran over to Cicero. "We gotta keep going. You can run with an arrow in your shoulder, right?" I tugged on the Keeper's hand, but he didn't move. I looked down and saw the glistening of poison on the arrow.

"Go," Cicero whispered. One hand slowly reached up to try to staunch the wound. "The Listener must go. Leave poor Cicero behind."

"I don't want to!" I cried. I looked up and saw a squadron bearing towards us. I hurriedly summoned Shadowmere and tried to drag Cicero on, but he was too heavy.

"You must go," Cicero sighed. "Cicero cannot move."

"She won't kill you," I said frantically hoping I was right. "She'll hold you to draw me back. Wait for me." I quickly kissed my jester and said three little words: "I'll be back!" I leapt onto Shadowmere's back.

I called myself all kinds of fool as I fled. I tried to convince myself that the tears on my face were from the force of the wind and nothing else.


	20. The Great Escape

**9 Morndas First Seed 205 4E 6:00 PM**

"Cicero is bored," the jester complained.

The Imperial was locked up in a cage hanging five feet above the ground. He was wearing nothing but his small clothes. The Stormblade had demanded that he be stripped of the Stormcloak armor he had falsely been wearing. Cicero's legs dangled between the bars. He kicked them to emphasize his boredom.

Hulgar swallowed nervously. He had drawn the short straw for watching the madman and could not wait for his shift to end. When they had dragged the short man into the dungeon, he had not even been struggling. He just laughed and laughed and laughed.

Hulgar had heard the redhead earned his black eye from the Dragonborn when she captured him on the battlefield for mockingly laughing at her when his companion managed to escape. The Nord didn't know why, but apparently the Dragonborn had been more interested in capturing the woman than the man.

To be honest, the prisoner didn't look dangerous at all, especially for someone who was supposed to be an assassin. Even if you ignored the purpling black eye and the fact that he was wearing practically nothing, the man was tiny, almost a foot and a half shorter than a proper Nord. He had quietly sat there smiling and laughing instead of screaming threats and crying uncontrollably like some prisoners Hulgar had to watch in the past. He had even told a couple of decent jokes. Hulgar would need to remember the horker one for his next shift off.

It was the singing that sent shivers down Hulgar's spine.

Cicero sang the most disturbing songs. The Imperial had sung about strangling birds, feeding cats to rats, creeping in the night. The one about stabbing a maid in her gut was the one that scared Hulgar the most. It wasn't just the material was morbid, but the fact that the man was just so damn cheerful while he uttered the words.

"Cicero has a question," the prisoner said calmly. He looked Hulgar directly in the eye. "When is Cicero going to be tortured?"

"Nords don't torture their prisoners," Hulgar said proudly. He had served Jarl Ulfric for years and was glad they stuck to the old ways instead of adopting the insanity of the Imperials. The thought of hurting a helpless human being was sickening. "You'll be held for a few days. When the Dragonborn is ready to travel, you will be transported to Windhelm where a trial will be held for you. Depending on what the verdict is, you will either be sentenced to prison or executed."

"Pity," Cicero sighed, "Cicero had hoped there would be something to alleviate the boredom. I had really looked forward to swearing 'I'll never tell, damn you!' Ah, well! No use complaining, right?" That broad grin and laugh did nothing to reassure Hulgar. When the Imperial spoke again, his voice was so serious and dark, Hulgar thought he was going to piss himself. "Still, Cicero is bored and that is a bad thing."

"I'm…I'm sure someone will come down to question you soon," Hulgar stammered. "No doubt they'll want to know why you were here and where your companion went."

"Oh, goody!" Cicero clapped happily.

At that moment, the Dragonborn entered the dungeon with a squad of guards. Hulgar tried not to stare at her, but he was entranced by the woman wearing her unique dragon scale armor. She was a living legend and she was their leader! Not only had Lydia Dragonborn saved the world from a dragon god, but she was going to save Skyrim from the Empire and their damn Thalmor friends as well.

When Hulgar snapped a salute to his commander, Lydia nodded in return. Hulgar thought he could die from happiness from being recognized. "Has he given you any trouble?" she asked quietly.

"No, ma'am," Hulgar said. "He has some strange mannerisms though. If I may, I suggest you don't leave any green kids down here. He might spook them." When the Dragonborn nodded and smiled, Hulgar almost volunteered to work a double shift. Almost.

"So, clown," the Dragonborn said as she turned to the prisoner. She said the word clown as if it was a curse. "How does it feel to be left to rot alone in a cage?"

"Hecate will come for loyal Cicero," the Imperial said arrogantly with complete confidence.

"Who is Hecate?" Lydia asked.

Cicero grinned and pressed his forehead against the bars of the cage. He beckoned for Lydia to lean closer. When the Dragonborn did, he said, "She is the whisper in the dark. She is the silence broken. She is Cicero's mistress and the leader of the Dark Brotherhood. She is the Listener and nothing can stop her when she puts her mind to it." The jester then laughed loudly in Lydia's face.

"We'll see," Lydia said as she jumped back. Her face was livid. She turned to one of her escorts. "Double the guard. Let's see how well the Brotherhood does when we're ready for them."

"It won't do you any good," Cicero taunted. "The Emperor knew we were coming and look at how he turned out."

* * *

><p><strong>9 Morndas First Seed 205 4E 6:30 PM<strong>

"Nazir!" I yelled as I stumbled into Sanctuary. I had ridden Shadowmere back at neck-breaking speed. To the demon horse's credit, she hadn't even looked winded by the time we got to the Black Door. "Nazir, who's in Sanctuary?"

I was running down the stairs so fast I was worried I would slip and fall, but I couldn't convince myself to slow down. I made my way to the dining room where Nazir was cleaning up the area from dinner. The Redguard looked at me like I was a crazy person. I probably looked like one.

"What is wrong, Listener?" he asked calmly.

"The Stormcloaks captured Cicero," I gasped. I stopped by the table and leaned against it to catch my breath. Although it had been more than four hours since I last saw the Keeper, my heart was beating just as hard when our escape happened.

"Dammit, woman, I warned you something like this might happen!" Nazir yelled. "I tried to tell you that confronting the fake Dragonborn was a bad idea."

"Clearly I've learned my lesson!" I snapped back. "Who is in Sanctuary?"

"Meena," Nazir said. "The others are out on contract." The Khajiit wandered out from the Initiate room from hearing our voices.

"Meena, go to the Bard's college and collect Aventus," I said. "Cicero has been captured and we're going to get him back."

"Has it occurred to you that we should leave him?" Nazir suggested. "They will be waiting for us and nothing is worst for an assassin than to be expected."

"I dare you to say that again!" I growled as I grabbed the front of Nazir's garb. "Go on, say it!"

"Brother, sister, calm down," Meena said. She seemed enjoy being mediator for a change. The Khajiit bared her teeth in some sort of predatory grin. "As long as Hecate goes to such lengths for all of us, Meena has no complaints."

"Bah," Nazir sneered as he jerked away. He smoothed his clothes out of arm's reach from me. "Meena has a point. You better be this dedicated if something happens to rest of us."

"I'll never leave anyone behind," I swore. "Get moving. We have a lot to do in a short amount of time."

* * *

><p><strong>13 Fredas First Seed 205 4E 11:00 PM<strong>

Cicero was lying on his back with his feet pressed against the top of the cage. Damn thing was too small to do anything other than sit. It was so boring! At least poor Cicero had company with the guards even if most of them wouldn't talk to him. To be forced to be alone would have been maddening.

"Hulgar," Cicero said still practically upside down, "what day is it?"

"How do you know my name?" the guard asked, surprised.

"Cicero pays attention," the jester shrugged. "The day?"

"Fredas," Hulgar responded. Hulgar was Cicero's favorite guard. He would talk back sometimes despite Lydia's command not to.

Fredas? So late already? Cicero tsked. Hecate should have been here already. Cicero really must get back to Mother. Assuming he couldn't steal a horse, he would need most of tomorrow to get back to Sanctuary in time. Especially since he couldn't go in a straight line as it would risk someone following him home. Cicero may be a fool, but not that much of a fool!

Ah well, you couldn't say Cicero didn't try to wait for Hecate to come rescue him.

Cicero rolled over so he was sitting upright. He beckoned to Hulgar. "What to see a neat trick?" Cicero asked playfully.

"I really shouldn't," Hulgar said nervously. He tightened his grip on his spear. "The Dragonborn has orders for us to not get within arm's reach of you."

"Hulgar isn't supposed to talk to lonely Cicero too," the jester pouted. "What could humble Cicero possibly do to a guard as strong and as quick as you? Flash you with his privates?" When Cicero laughed, he was pleased to see Hulgar join in timidly.

"Okay, but no funny business," Hulgar warned as he approached. Maybe the Imperial would show Hulgar something he could show off at the camp fires. The jokes he had learned had been pretty well received.

"Cicero cannot promise that for his business is funny business," Cicero said. "What else is a fool good for?" When Hulgar was close enough, Cicero placed his hands through the bars of the cage. "Observe how there is nothing in Cicero's hands." He turned the palms back and forth to show both sides. Hulgar nodded dutifully.

Quick as lightning, Cicero gestured using his telekinesis spell to summon a mug to his hand. Shattering it against the floor of his cage, the assassin grabbed the largest shard and used it to slit the guard's throat. "Notice how there now is," Cicero said laughing darkly. As the body fell to the ground, Cicero sighed, "Cicero always loses his audience at this point."

Now that the keys weren't in the possession of a living person, Cicero was able to easily pluck them with his magic. A twist of the key and the jester was free again! The first thing Cicero did was dance a merry jig, ecstatic to be able to move again. "Must oil Mother soon," Cicero muttered as he stripped the body for clothes. "Get all the hard to reach spots."

* * *

><p><strong>13 Fredas First Seed 205 4E 11:30 PM<strong>

Aventus, Nazir, Meena, and I were crouched in the shadows waiting for Babette to complete her mission before advancing into the fortress. Vedave Sendal was waiting at a different hilltop ready to rain down fire and ice if things went terribly wrong, which given the circumstances was most likely to happen.

I tightened my mask and cowl around my face just to have something to do with my hands. My Brotherhood leathers creaked as I shifted position. I was getting twitchy, but it was vital to wait until the right moment to move. An assassin had to be able to adapt when the situation changes, but it was much better to organize everything to your favor beforehand.

I watched Babette as she timidly walked with her flower basket amongst the loud soldiers. Periodically she would stop and offer to sell pretty mountain flowers to the soldiers. While they politely looked at her wares, the vampire quietly slipped poison into their cooking pots. Once a transaction happened or was denied, the Breton girl moved on, smiling happily.

Quickly a large number of soldiers were slumped over their dinner bowls asleep from the draught slipped into their food. I was wrathful enough to have had my family slaughter every last one of the Stormcloaks, in fact the dragon part of my soul was screaming for it. But I still wanted to keep some aspect of my humanity and decided that slumber was much more discrete than death. A few slumbering soldiers this later wouldn't draw attention like dead soldiers allowing us more time to get in and out unnoticed. I wanted Cicero back, but I wasn't going to risk another family member to get him. No matter how much I wanted to.

"Go," I whispered when Babette was out of sight. The vampire child would continue her rounds through the camp quietly poisoning guards and sabotaging weapons and horses when possible. No one would think it strange to see a child in the camps. It was not uncommon for a career soldier to bring his family with him; and there were always waifs who had no one to take care of them so they would do chores for the warriors for a few septims in return. In war there were always orphans who had to get by somehow.

We stole like shadows across the plain into the camp again. Nazir dashed into a tent to wait to guard our exit. The Redguard nodded quietly as he pulled the tent flap closed to hide his presence.

We were almost to the fort when cries could be heard from the camps. I turned and saw that Babette had set up a distraction by setting some of the tents on fire. Soldiers ran to deal with the hazard before they lost too many supplies.

Once we were at the entrance, Meena broke off. She crammed herself into an alcove to hide while guarding our backs. "Try to not get killed," the Khajiit winked mischievously. "Meena would hate to have to be the leader of the Brotherhood if something terrible were to happen to the Listener."

I just shook my head before continuing. We were in the final stretch. I was not comfortable being within the stone walls. Outside in the camp, there were many escape options and you could more or less see where you were going. In here there were just the cold walls blocking my sight past thirty feet or so.

I did my best to block out Aventus. In the six months since the boy had left for Bard's College, he had grown another six inches and his chest had broadened. His unruly brown hair had grown long enough to be pulled back into a neat ponytail that trailed down to his shoulders. At fourteen, without hitting his growth spurt, Aventus was already almost six feet tall. He definitely had Nord blood in him.

"You're staring at me," Aventus said blushing.

"Sorry," I said, "I keep trying to reconcile the man next to me with the little boy I found alone in a house four years ago."

"You think I'm a man?" Aventus grinned goofily.

"You will always be that boy to me," I said, "but, yes, you have definitely grown into a man." I leaned forward and hugged Aventus. Suddenly I felt another set of arms wrapping around the two of us.

"This is just so touching!" Cicero cried. The Fool was wearing Stormcloak armor with bloodstains on the front. "Cicero is glad he got to be here for this."

"Cicero!" I said happily. I shifted so I could hug just the fool. "How did you escape?"

"It was time to go home," he said simply. "Cicero couldn't wait for Hecate any longer."

"You mean you could have escaped sooner, but you didn't?" I blinked in surprised when Cicero just nodded. "Why in the Void didn't you then!"

"Hecate said to wait for her," Cicero said as if talking to a slow child. "So Cicero waited, but it got so late and Cicero simply must get home to Mother. Mother needs loyal Cicero."

"I really hate you sometimes," I muttered as I dug into my belt pouch. "You don't deserve this, but I brought it for you." I handed Cicero his jester's cap.

"Oh, the Listener spoils Cicero so!" he crowed as he dropped the cap onto his head. "Cicero did have the worst time. They refused to torture Cicero no matter how much he begged."

"I promise to chain you to the wall in the torture room when we get home," I said rolling my eyes.

"Cicero is so lucky to have such a kind Listener!" the jester said clapping happily.

"Guys, as weird as all this is," Aventus spoke up, "we really should be leaving since we completed our objective."

"No," I shook my head. "I came here for my armor and I mean to have it."

With Cicero free, we wouldn't need to go into the bowels of the fort where the dungeons were. Instead we turned upward to find Lydia's room. This late at night she should be in her room, hopefully asleep. My experience with bandit occupied forts indicated that the leader's room should be in the room of the highest tower. The three of us melded with the shadows as we stalked through the fort.

It was thankfully easy to avoid guards as we moved through the fort. They felt safe here. They had made this place their home for the winter with no mishaps, and complacency made them incompetent. Men and women were half asleep as they walked their patrols or nodding asleep while seated at a table.

It didn't take us long to find a door with the Talos symbol on the door. It was practically a flashing target for an assassin. Pride of heritage and symbolism made it so much easier to find a target and kill them. Not that I planned on killing Lydia. Tonight was purely acquisition.

The door was unlocked so I quietly pushed it open. Inside, the room was pitch-black. I could make out vague outlines thanks to my night vision and the window letting moonlight in. The room wasn't very big, but much more private than most soldiers got to enjoy. A single bed was along the far wall. I could make out a lump, but not much more. The three of us crept in looking for a mannequin that the dragon scale armor would be left on when not in use. There was a mannequin set up in the corner opposite the bed, but it was bare. Something was wrong; Lydia always properly put her armor away.

"This is taking too long," Aventus said. He pulled the covers off the bed to reveal rolled up furs.

The door to the bedroom flew open. Lydia was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and smug look on her face. An entire squad of Stormcloaks stood behind her with weapons drawn. "You must be the leader Cicero was bragging about," Lydia sneered. She had not recognized me since I was wearing my cowl and mask. "You don't look like much to me."

I hate when things don't go according to plan.

I shrugged affecting helplessness as I desperately tried to think. Lydia was armored and had four times as many men than my companions and me. No doubt she had more men waiting below in case we got past the first line of defense regardless if it was from us fleeing or cutting our way through.

"Traitor!" Aventus screamed as he charged Lydia. His large spiked mace was already in mid-swing as he ran. I had spent too much ranting about how I wanted revenge around the young, impressionable boy for Aventus to stand idly by when he finally saw the false Dragonborn.

I braced myself when I saw Lydia calmly drop her arms as she took a deep breath. **"FUS RO DAH!"** she Shouted causing both Aventus and Cicero to go flying backwards. I resisted the force Shout thanks to my own training.

"How are you still standing?" Lydia snarled. "No matter." She gestured and her soldiers streamed into the room.

I flipped backwards so I landed on the far side of the bed. I gestured for Cicero and Aventus to join me. To their credit, they managed to get to their feet and to my side incredibly fast. The three of us grabbed the underside and pushed the bed so it flew into the first wave of Stormcloaks. Not only did it pin those men, but it helped block the door so no more could get in easily.

"We've got to get out of here," I muttered. I turned to the window. "Get to the roof!"

"The roof?" Aventus asked. "We'll be trapped!"

"We're already trapped here," I snapped. "Go!" Cicero was already mostly out the window having immediately followed my command. It was one of the things I loved about him. He never questioned or asked if I was sure when I said what to do.

I started shooting arrows to force the Stormcloaks to take cover either behind furniture or back into the hall. The ones pinned by the bed were trying to get it off of them, but it was difficult with no one to help them.

After Aventus had cleared the window, I ran to join them. I took one last glance behind me and saw Lydia climbing over the tilted bed. "I'll not let you get away!" she swore as she leapt for me. The former housecarl almost managed to grab my foot as I scaled the wall. I gave a halfhearted kick as I retreated. I made a rude gesture to infuriate Lydia into following me.

It worked.

Three years had been long enough that I forgot how fast Lydia could move when she was pissed. Even in the full body armor, the Nord was right on my heels as we scrambled up the wall to the peaked roof. I had also forgotten how damn loud she was. Lydia sounded like a herd of mammoths trampling behind me.

A pale hand reached over the side of the edge, palm open. I grabbed it and Cicero jerked me up the last little bit so I was dragged onto the roof. I nodded my thanks as I ran on to the top most part of the roof while drawing my bow. I sent a flare-laden arrow into the air; it burst into red fireworks that alerted the others that it was time to withdraw. I quickly followed with a Shout that made the roof shake with the force.

"What was that?" Lydia asked as she pulled herself onto the roof. Aventus and Cicero positioned themselves between us. "Was that a Shout? Who are you?"

"I am Hecate, the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood," I said calmly as I removed my mask and cowl. Lydia's face fell with dismay when she saw my face.

"My thane," she said softly. Lydia's face hardened. "You not only join an insane religious cult of assassins, but you become their leader? What in the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm a Fate's child," I said. I resheathed Styx. I would not be fighting Lydia. "My destiny was chosen a long time ago. All I can do is accept it."

"That's such bullshit!" Lydia retorted. She hefted her two-handed sword into an attack stance.

"We outnumber you!" Aventus yelled. "Surrender!"

"Please," Lydia snorted, "as if I couldn't take on three members of a half-assed assassin's guild. Especially with the unrelenting force shout at my command. I can easily knock the lot of you off this tower just with my voice. What can you possibly do to stop me?"

"We wait," I said simply. I walked until I was standing behind Aventus and Cicero. The jester was chuckling lightly to himself.

"Wait for what?" Lydia asked suspiciously.

"For that," I said pointing.

Lydia turned to see the result of my Shout. Odahviing, an ancient red dragon was flying towards our location. The huge creature landed on the edge of the tower, most of its body latching onto the stone wall side. _"Dovahkiin, how may I help you?"_ he asked in the draconic language.

"Knock her out," I replied gesturing to Lydia. "Don't kill her."

The dragon complied by raising a wing and slamming it into Lydia. The Nord went down with a heavy thud as she crashed into the tile. She was lying still when Odahviing removed his wing.

"How did you do that?" Aventus asked, his mouth hanging open.

I walked up to Odahviing and patted the dragon's muzzle as a sign of thanks. "Odahviing helped me defeat Alduin after I trapped him in Dragonsreach. He has sworn to serve me when I need him. If you call a dragon's name, they will come. No matter how far away they are."

"Oooooh! What a neat trick! The Listener should teach Cicero!" the jester suggested.

"I don't think so, my jolly jester," I said. I turned to Odahviing. "Can you carry all of us out of here?"

"Creatures as small as your kind I would barely notice," Odahviing rumbled in the language of man. "Climb onto my back as you did once before." We three assassins scrambled onto the dragon's back so that Cicero was in the front, then me, and Aventus in the back. Odahviing scooped up Lydia in his giant claws.

When we took to the air, Cicero laughed merrily. His jester's cap flapped in the wind, but didn't fly off his head as one would expect. "You've got to tell me how you do that one day," I yelled in his ear.

"What would be the fun in that?" Cicero said winking.

* * *

><p><strong>14 Loredas First Seed 205 4E 12:30 AM<strong>

Once we escaped Fort Snowhawk, I had Odahviing take us to Solitude so we could drop Aventus off. A journey that would have normally taken us hours instead only took minutes. "Study hard and often," I said playfully as a farewell before giving Aventus a quick peck on the forehead.

Odahviing then took us to a nondescript field that had been chosen as our rendezvous point to meet back up with the others. Even with the detour to Solitude, we beat the others there. Cicero did a barrel roll off the dragon and rolled in the cool night grass while laughing.

"We simply must do that more often!" the jester said. "So much faster than horses."

Odahviing snorted; the force of his breath almost knocked Cicero over. "I am not a mount, _joor_."

The red dragon settled into a comfortable sitting position while Cicero danced around him begging to be taught the dragon language. I turned to Lydia who was still unconscious and stripped her of my armor. A few moments after I finished, the Nord awoke.

"Why? Why did you wait all this time to come for that armor?" Lydia asked as she slowly sat up. "You must have known I have been using it for a long time now."

"At first I didn't know it was you," I said as I carefully stacked the pieces together. "I was so mad. Furious beyond reason, really. I must have thought of a dozen ways to kill you."

"So you've come to extract your revenge?" Lydia asked. I could tell by the stubborn set of her chin that she wouldn't beg for her life.

"No," I shook my head, "I gave up that idea a while back. This wasn't about petty revenge, although I admit that the idea of no one impersonating me ever again is very appealing. I really do need the armor."

"Why?" Lydia asked suspiciously. "You could have made more."

"I need this specific set to get close to Ulfric Stormcloak," I looked Lydia in the eye, "so I can kill him."

"Never!" Lydia yelled as she threw herself at me. Even with no armor or weapons, the housecarl was not going to stand idly by while her sworn charge was threatened.

I easily sidestepped the charging Nord and flipped her so she landed on her back. I placed a steel toed boot on her throat to keep her from moving. "Listen to me, Lydia, and listen well. I hope this is the last time we see each other, because otherwise it meant you decided to come after me and that wouldn't end well for you. I could have killed you. I probably should. You know who I was and who I am and that just makes a bad combination.

"But you were my friend and saved my life countless times. Just as I did for you. So, I figured we owed each other. The thu'um can consume you with anger. I was there. Ulfric probably still is. You don't earn his reputation for a temper without a reason. Part of what you're feeling right now is a result of untrained thu'um dominating your life.

"I know you won't tell anyone who I really am. After all, either it would be to someone you were posing as the Dragonborn for and would reveal the lie, or it would be someone who already knows the truth and you've already proven yourself to be a liar. In the end, your own deceptions have caught up to you. You cannot go back to Whiterun or Windhelm once Ulfric is dead.

"So, go to the Greybeards. Live with them and learn their ways. Be the student Ulfric and I never were. Embrace the Way of the Voice and find peace, my friend."

"Damn you, Diana, damn you to the Void!" Lydia swore as she struggled under the pressure of my boot.

"I have already been promised that fate," I said calmly, "and I assure you it's better than going to Sovngarde." I gestured for Odahviing to come and pick up Lydia. Once the dragon had the Nord securely in his grasp, I gave her a small peck on the cheek. "I understand why you hate me, but you will always be my friend." I pressed my forehead against hers. "I love you, Lydia."

"I'll stop you!" Lydia swore as she struggled against Odahviing's steel grip.

"Odahviing is taking you to High Hrothgar at the top of the Throat of the World. Without a horse, you'll never make it back in time." I stepped back to give the red dragon room to start flapping his wings for flight. "Goodbye, Lydia."

As Odahviing took flight, I could hear Lydia slinging curses at me. I really hoped that she followed my advice and found Arngeir to teach her the Greybeard's pacifistic lifestyle. I doubted it. Lydia really was a true Nord and would not be satisfied without getting revenge for the murder of her jarl. Things would never be settled between the two of us and unless my own life or Cicero's were in danger, I don't think I could ever kill Lydia. This stalemate would have to be good enough.

"Yol, yol, yol," Cicero chanted as he walked up to me. He pouted and whined, "Why isn't it working?"

"Because, thankfully, you are not trained enough, my dear, darling, deadly Keeper," I laughed. "If I have any say in the matter, you never will. That mouth of yours is dangerous enough."

"But Cicero wants to learn!" Cicero complained. He wrapped his arms around me and nestled the hollow of my throat where he traced his lips along my skin. "Cicero would be such an eager student."

"I assure you that I have better plans for your tongue than spewing of fire and ice," I said as I shivered with pleasure. It should be some time before any of the others showed up. I pulled Cicero closer so I could undo the straps holding his armor closed. We might as well preoccupy ourselves until then.

Then once the Brotherhood was together again, we could proceed with the next step of fulfilling our contract to kill Ulfric Stormcloak.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The next chapter should be the final chapter of For the Future of Skyrim. Thanks to all my readers for their support!**


	21. Moons and Roses

**A/N: Due to unforeseen circumstances, this will not be the last chapter as I thought it would. I blame Cicero.**

* * *

><p><strong>Sundas 15 First Seed 205 4E 7:00 PM<strong>

Cicero was finalizing his preparation for the weekly oiling of the Night Mother. Her shrine had been moved down to the catacombs under the Sanctuary about six months ago to prevent future incidents with initiates. Only Cicero and I knew where the Night Mother rested now. In retrospect, it was probably what we should have done from the beginning instead of leaving her shrine out in the open. I suppose using the loft had been a leftover from when Cicero lived here alone with the Night Mother when he first came to Skyrim.

Now the Night Mother was surrounded by shadows, the quiet, and the remains of her faithful children, similar to what her crypt in Bravil had been like. The Keeper reveled in knowing that his Mother was safely tucked away from the sight and touch of the unworthy. Only he and I would be in her presence.

"I'm worried," I said. I was sitting on a pew with my arms wrapped around my knees. I wasn't sure why Cicero had insisted on setting up several pews down here other than to make the shrine feel more like a small church for the Night Mother. "You'll be taking the biggest risk with this operation."

"Hardly," Cicero sniffed. He was organizing the last of his oils and cleaning tools on his working table. The fine silk of his Keeper's robes whispered as he moved. "Cicero is much more worried about the Listener."

"I'll be fine," I said as I rocked back and forth trying to work off my nervous energy. "Ulfric honors the old ways." I stood suddenly. "I should get moving. It's important I get into position before you."

"Before you go, there is something I wanted to give you," Cicero smiled broadly as he walked over to me. From the wide sleeves of his Keeper robes, Cicero produced a small box. When he opened it, I saw a silver ring with amethyst setting. Even in the dim shadowy candlelight I could make out the glow of enchantment.

"Cicero, it's lovely," I exclaimed as I picked up the ring. The band had a delicate, intricate design of roses and moons. "You shouldn't have. This must have cost you a fortune."

"It does have the strongest protective enchantments," Cicero bragged. "So, you'll wear it?"

"Of course," I smiled. Cicero was always watching out for me. "Did you get one for yourself?"

Cicero shrugged. "Alas, Cicero is ringless."

"You should have gotten one for yourself too," I scowled. "If you had told me, I could have arranged something."

"It would have ruined the surprise," Cicero murmured as he leaned forward to kiss me. I was surprised; he never showed affection in front of the Night Mother. "Maybe next time you're in Dawnstar."

"Maybe," I said suspiciously. I started to put the ring on my finger, but Cicero deftly plucked it away.

"Allow me," he said as he dropped to one knee. He took my left hand and placed the ring on my fourth finger. "Will you promise to wear this always?"

"Until you get me a better one," I said laughing nervously. Cicero was acting stranger than normal.

"Then consider this band a token of my affection and devotion," Cicero said kissing the ring before releasing my hand. The Keeper stood and dusted off his robes. "You should go. I need to start Mother's oiling."

"I'll see you soon," I whispered before I left. Cicero looked so happy and serene as I left. I felt like something had just happened and I missed what it was.

* * *

><p><strong>Sundas 15 First Seed 205 4E 7:15 PM<strong>

"You seem distracted," Babette commented. I was in the kitchen grabbing a late dinner before leaving. I sat next to the vampire child with my bowl of food. Nazir and Meena were nearby finishing their own dinners.

"I am," I admitted. "Something just happened and I'm not sure what." I hated feeling like this. My heart was thudding so hard in my throat, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to eat.

"It's a bad idea to not have your mind on your target," Nazir warned.

"Don't worry, Nazir," I said, "I'll be focused when the time comes."

"Oh, so shiny!" Meena exclaimed. She slid over on the bench until she was next to me. She grabbed my left hand to examine the ring Cicero had given me. "If the Listener dies, can Meena have this?"

"No!" I snapped as I jerked my hand away. Meena might have been more loyal since our duel, but she seemed awfully hopeful of me dying at any moment.

"That's new," Babette said. "When did you get it?"

"Cicero just gave it to me," I said. I held my hand up so I could see the ring clearly. My right hand traced the band. Moons, my symbol, and mountain roses, Cicero's, intertwined forever in a circle. "He dropped to one knee right in front of the Night Mother while declaring his devotion."

"You just got married!" Babette exclaimed. "You should have invited me. I could have been your flower girl," she teased.

"We did not just get married!" I yelled blushing furiously.

"Oh, please," Babette smirked as she propped her chin in her hands. "What is marriage but two people declaring their love in front of their god? Is not the Night Mother your goddess?"

"We did not declare our love," I growled.

"So you did not give him a ring in return?" Babette asked.

"No!" I paused. I placed my face in my hand. "Oh gods, but I did tell him I would give him one the next chance I got. He tricked me!" I was furious. Cicero had intentionally done this right before he oiled the Night Mother so if I figured it out, I couldn't go yell at him. I couldn't interrupt the ceremony without disrespecting the Night Mother.

"I don't see what the fuss is all about," Nazir said. He looked bored and slightly uncomfortable with all of this. "The two of you are as thick as thieves anyway. As Listener and Keeper, it's not like you're not going to be together the rest of your lives anyway. You're practically married already."

"I'm not married! I'm not going to be married! I don't want to be married!" I yelled. I jumped to my feet and ran to my room to pack. I wiped away tears of frustration as I stalked away.

Why couldn't Cicero ever just be forthright with me? Why did he feel like he had to trick me? Because he knew that I would say no and that was not acceptable to the Fool of Hearts. Cicero had never done well with being denied and would do whatever it took to get what he wanted. Look at how he had dealt with finding the Listener for the Night Mother. When one wasn't presented on her own, Cicero tried to become the Listener himself.

I wanted to rip the ring off my finger and throw it away into the darkness. If I hadn't given a promise, I would have. My word has always been important to me, a trait I shared with Cicero. This must have been how Tsun felt when I rejected his offer for me to join Sovngarde in the afterlife. Even if I regretted my words, I was still bound by them.

Assuming somehow the two of us beat the odds of not dying while on contract, which was better than most assassins since we were technically were not supposed to take jobs, I would outlive Cicero. Not just by five, ten, or even twenty years. I was looking at centuries of missing one Fool.

I clenched my fist and thought of the Grieving Widow, our most recent petitioner. She had lost her husband four years ago and her pain was almost overwhelming. How would I manage so much longer?

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 2 First Seed 205 4E 9:00 PM<strong>

"Cicero is bored," the jester complained. He did a handstand and started to walk around on his palms. "How much longer must we wait?"

"Until our petitioner makes herself known," I said as I leaned back against the Shrine of Talos. We were in White River Valley located a few hours northeast of Whiterun. The great stone statue of the Nordic god was old, old enough that moss graced the base of the statue and the stone was discolored and rubbed smooth in places. At its feet were small tokens of devotion; coins, flowers, weapons, and armor. Cicero had riffled through the collection at least three times already.

When I received the Night Mother's summon this morning, the Lady had specifically ordered for me to take this petition instead of sending Nazir. As Speaker, his main duty was to talk to the people who had performed the Black Sacrament and find out the details of our targets.

I could only assume that meant either our petitioner or target was someone of great import. Sithis may take any soul delivered by his children, but he craved people of power and influence. To send such a life to the Dread Lord was to garner his favor.

What I found out of place was that our petitioner was nowhere in sight. Usually when we went to the place directed, the petitioner was already waiting for us. Yet, Cicero and I had promptly come to this lonely place and found no sign of anyone within miles. Cicero and I had waited long enough that we got to watch the sun drop below the mountains.

I had a sinking suspicion who our petitioner was. I played with the war horn, a hollowed out tusk with steel markings, which I had found at the feet of the statue. Many years ago I had placed this very horn here as a favor for Elisif the Fair, High King Torygg's widow.

Thus it was no surprise when I saw two women walking towards the shrine. One of them was in fact, Elisif, walking stiffly and properly. I don't think I have ever seen the woman relax despite the fact she was only in her late twenties. Behind her walked her court wizard, Sybille Stentor. Sybille had been part of the Solitude court for a long time; she had been a mentor for Torygg in his youth over twenty years ago. Odd considering the Breton did not look older than her thirties.

"Greetings, Lady Elisif," I nodded. "Sybille."

"One normally stands in the presence of royalty," Sybille said disdainfully.

"One also normally does not make an assassin wait," I retorted as I hopped off the shrine. "So it seems we both have been rather rude, which is a terrible way to start a business negotiation."

Cicero moved so he was standing behind me. "The wizard is a vampire," he whispered in my ear. I nodded my understanding. Cicero's power of observation never ceased to amaze me. I had known there was something different about Sybille; I just had never known what. It made some of the rumors regarding her in the prisons make more sense. I had just assumed she had some bloodthirsty streak to cause prisoners to die; I just didn't think so literally.

I remembered during my time as the Dragonborn how Sybille had sent me to clear out a nest of vampires near Solitude. Apparently there was no love lost between her and the rest of her kind. In all honesty, Sybille didn't act or look like other vampires. While most of them were little more than feral animals, Sybille had always struck me as a no-nonsense, refined woman. The Breton hated to have her time wasted with frivolous matters and had a reputation of being one of the best destruction casters known. No doubt she was a valuable asset to Elisif for her court.

"I suppose you had good reason to delay meeting us considering your condition," I said lightly. I placed the war horn back at the base of the statue. "Been sleeping in some cave until the sun went down?"

"Not willingly," Sybille said stiffly, "but you have to take what accommodations you can find." Vampire nests were commonly found in the dankest caves. It must have galled Sybille to have to use one no matter for how short of a time period.

"I suppose you used Torygg's skeleton for the ritual?" I asked turning my attention to Elisif. As all too often, the woman's face was set in a stern, flat expression. The few times I had seen her smile had always been pained. Even when I had told her of meeting Torygg in Sovngarde, her joy had been guarded and brief.

"I did." Elisif nodded curtly. "Your companion looks familiar. Have we met before?"

I was grateful that my mask and cowl hid my blush. Thankfully Elisif had never met Cicero in his jester's garb. They had met almost three years ago when Cicero and I had stopped in Solitude to scout for Vittoria Vici's wedding. If she recognized him now, she might connect the jester to me.

"Does the Lady Elisif frequently associate with assassins? We thought this would be your first time," Cicero teased. "Maybe it's my motley. The High King's court needs a jester, but not me, noooo, not Cicero. The Fool of Hearts is busy enough, thank you very much!"

"Thank you, Cicero," I said enjoying the flush on Elisif's face from Cicero's sharp barb. I turned back to the jarl. "We are all friends here, Lady Elisif. Tell us who you wish to be our Black Sacrament."

"Ulfric Stormcloak," Elisif said, regaining her confidence. "I will not have the man who murdered my husband steal his throne. I had believed in the Empire and trusted that they would set things correct. But now I see the Stormcloak rebellion practically camping on my doorstep and realize I must be the one who takes control of the situation. I will not stand idly by while Ulfric claims Skyrim or me for his own."

In tradition of the old ways, it would be likely that Ulfric would wed Elisif if he was named High King. It would keep a continuity of the old line and lend legitimacy to his rule. I doubt Ulfric would force Elisif directly, but there was always some way to coerce the woman to submit willingly.

"What price is a man's life worth to you?" I asked.

"It is my understanding that you take a thousand gold?" Elisif said uncertainly.

"For a bandit or other common thug," I laughed. "Surely the Bear of Eastmarch and future High King is worth a bit more."

"Excuse me for not being versed in such transactions," Elisif said offended. "I rarely find it necessary to barter."

"It's not a matter of money," I said. "The payment is also tribute to Sithis. What are you willing to part with to appeal to the Dread Lord? For example, we received thirty-five thousand septims for Emperor Titus Mede II." Elisif flinched at the amount. That was a lot of money, especially for the losing side of a war. It would go a long way to helping rebuild homes and farms destroyed from the fighting, give reparations to widows and orphans, and starting trade deals for long term prosperity.

"I've always found gold to be simple at best and crass at worst," I said as I walked closer to Elisif until I was from arm's reach. I paced around her in a circle. "Personally, I've always preferred favors. Admittedly the last time the Brotherhood made a deal with someone from the Empire, it turned out poorly for us. But, it is all a matter of who you're working with. That man had nothing but vengeance in mind when our former leader approached him. You, my lovely Lady Elisif, are fair. Not just in face, but also in honor. If you make a promise to me, I trust you to keep it not only in word but in spirit."

"What do you want?" Elisif asked cautiously.

"I want you to sanction the Dark Brotherhood," I said. I almost laughed when I heard the women gasp. "Not officially, of course. I wouldn't expect you to openly sponsor us. You could put us on retainer. Let us be your daggers in the dark for men and women too important and powerful to deal with directly and openly, just like you've done for Ulfric. We would still need monetary payment, but we would give you a generous discount. In return, you would make sure the guards don't give us too much hassle for our other contracts and protect us when you can."

"You would have me be your bedfellow?" Elisif gasped.

"Better us than Ulfric," Cicero laughed.

"Let me talk this over with my advisor," Elisif said. I nodded and the two women walked off a bit to talk privately.

"Cunning, clever, crafty Listener," Cicero crooned in my ear. "So much more careful than poor, dead Astrid."

As Elisif and Sybille talked, I was already forming a plan on how to get to Ulfric. He was currently stationed in Windhelm surrounded by all of his generals, stewards, and soldiers. The Palace of Kings was heavily fortified, practically a fortress itself. It would be almost impossible to get close to the man. I had no doubt Elisif would accept my offer. She had not come this far to stop now. It would be easy to rationalize her choice. It wasn't as if she had to use our services in the future and if someone needed to use the Black Sacrament then Elisif could understand their plight. It was a win-win situation.

"I accept the terms of your deal," Elisif said when they returned. I smiled smugly behind my mask.

"You won't regret it," I promised. I whistled for Shadowmere to come to me.

"Before you go," Sybille said, "please give my regards to my prodigy. I believe you know her, a small Breton girl who looks about ten years old. I do not know what name she goes by these days."

"Perhaps," I said carefully. So, this was Babette's sire. Why was I not surprised?

Cicero and I mounted on Shadowmere and rode off. "What will we do now, my Listener?" Cicero asked.

"I'm going to need my dragon scale armor," I said.

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"I think I'll just walk right up to Lydia and ask," I said.

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 16 First Seed 205 4E 12:15 AM<strong>

This was a familiar scene. I was sitting in an enclosed space in the dark while Cicero hummed to himself unaware there was an intruder in the room. Given his hyperawareness, it usually amused me when Cicero was the oblivious one for a change, but right now I was still too angry.

When the wardrobe doors open, Cicero was shocked to find me sitting in it. "Listener?" he managed to say before I leapt out and tackled the Keeper. Cicero landed heavily on the ground with me on top of him. I managed to refrain from wrapping my hands around his throat and choking him to death.

"Cicero thought you had left," he grunted. It was hard to talk with me sitting on his diaphragm. My feet were pressed on his forearms to keep him from moving.

"And miss my wedding night?" I said sarcastically. "Void forbid."

"Heh, heh, where did the Listener get such an idea?" Cicero hedged.

"Babette," I said. "You know how she's full of theories." I shifted so I was only sitting with my legs around Cicero's waist instead of leaning on his chest. My voice had gone soft and deadly, "Tell me truthfully, Keeper. I know you won't lie to one of your family members, especially me. Tell me how accurate Babette's theory is that you married me in front of the Night Mother without my knowledge."

"Cicero is tired," Cicero said changing the subject. He looked so vulnerable in the large hood of his Keeper robes.

"I don't doubt it. You always are after you oil the Night Mother, but I am not going to let this go. You knew what an important contract we had and then you pulled this little stunt. Did it occur to you that it could distract me at a crucial moment? That because of this, I could have died?"

"The Listener didn't have to know," Cicero said softly. There was no fight in his stance. I could beat him bloody and he would take it without fighting back. "It was just for Cicero. Mother would know of course, but she would never tell." He laughed nervously.

"Stupid, selfish, silly Fool," I said softly. I pulled on Cicero's robe so he sat up and was facing me. I leaned forward and kissed him. "Don't you know by now that I hate when someone has me do something without telling me everything?" I bit on his lip to put some sting to my words to let Cicero know he wasn't completely forgiven.

Instead of flinching away, Cicero leaned into the kiss, deepening it. His tongue pushed persistently against mine. I found my hands undoing his silken robes so I could feel his hot flesh against my hand. "We're on contract," I reminded him with a moan.

"That didn't stop Hecate last night in the torture room," Cicero snickered. His deft hands were undoing the buckles on my armor. "Or the night before that in the field after the dragon left."

"Those didn't count," I breathed as I pushed the hood of Cicero's head so I could sink my hands in his red hair. "You had to be punished for escaping on your own and we had to pass the time somehow until the others caught up to us."

"Oh yes," Cicero kissed my bare collarbone. "We barely finished before Meena showed up. She kept grinning at us and sniffing you."

"Stupid cat," I agreed as I ran my teeth down Cicero's neck. I paused. I sat up and slapped Cicero's shoulder. "Oh, you're distracting me! I am angry at you!"

"Of course, we were fighting," Cicero said as he pulled the rest of my armor off my chest. He leaned forward and suckled on my breast. I stifled a groan as my hips arched forward when Cicero wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I'm not going to let you seduce me," I growled. "If you think I'm just going to forget about this whole thing, then you're wrong."

"As the Listener commands," Cicero murmured as he stood up and carried me to his bed. He moved to give proper attention to my other breast. "Simply say 'stop' and Cicero will obey."

"Just tell me that it didn't count," I said as I wrapped my hands in Cicero's hair again. "Tell me that your little ceremony didn't count."

"There were no witnesses and no priest," Cicero said as his mouth traveled down my stomach. Even through the thick leather, the light touch of his fingers on my crotch flooded me with heat. "Really, not legally binding in the slightest."

"I really hate you," I mumbled as Cicero's lips rested against my hips.

"I know," Cicero said. I could feel his smile against me. As he pulled off my pants to continue his journey downwards, I sighed. I had lost again to the Fool of Hearts.


	22. The Grand Finale

**Morndas 16 First Seed 205 4E 4:00 PM**

It was time.

After years of blood, sweat, and tears it was finally time for Ulfric Stormcloak to plan the final stages of the war. This year his army of the loyal sons and daughters of Skyrim would take back Solitude for their own instead of allowing the greedy, cowardly Imperials to rule in name if not deed.

The large blonde man leaned back into his throne and sipped from his cold mug of mead as he imagined the scene of his victory in Castle Dour, the main station of the Imperial army, with the defeated body of General Tullius at his feet as Elisif the Fair was brought before him. Oh, the songs the bards would sing of how he not only fiercely defeated the Imperial general, but how gently he forgave naïve Elisif for meekly following the Imperial flag after her husband Torygg died.

Elisif would resist at first; it would only be proper and expected. No doubt the woman would bemoan about how the slayer of her husband had stolen his throne. Few rulers wedded for love, but against all odds Torygg and Elisif had truly cared for each other. However, time would pass and Elisif would find it harder and harder to remember the details of her dead husband's face. Meanwhile, Ulfric would be there in Solitude helping rebuild Skyrim to be better and more glorious than ever under the banner of Talos. Elisif would see everything the Bear of Eastmarch had done had been for the benefit of their country and eventually consent to marriage. It would be a tale worthy of the bards.

And if he had to spend the time in between dallying with Lydia, then that was a burden Ulfric would bear willingly.

Ulfric chuckled lowly at the thought of the former housecarl. Lydia was everything Ulfric would have dreamed for in a Dragonborn. Idealistic, loyal, strong, steadfast, and best of all a Nord. Unlike that hellcat Diana who had spent most of her time either stomping her foot in a tantrum or with her nose in the air looking down at others, Lydia was what Skyrim needed in a hero.

Galmar might occasionally grumble at Ulfric's love of bardic tales and songs, but it was that particular fondness that let Ulfric read people so well and convince them to join his side. He had seen how lost and depressed Lydia had been when she returned to his city after losing track of Diana and he had given her a purpose again. Ulfric hadn't forced the matter on the brunette. No, it had been essential that she decided to claim the title of Dragonborn on her own; but Ulfric had made sure to show her every reason why she should use the name instead of leaving it in the dust to rot and be forgotten like the dragon scale armor Ulfric's men had found along the roadside in the Pale.

Ulfric had been personally insulted when he heard the reports of how they found that unique, symbolic armor discarded like yesterday's trash. Given the time frame of when the armor had been found and Diana's last visit to Windhelm, the Dragonborn had intentionally left her precious armor behind—a fact that Ulfric had carefully kept from Lydia. It was better for the woman to believe her charge had died using the armor instead of abandoning it. After all, given Diana's fickle nature it was more likely she had decided to leave for another country after becoming bored with Skyrim's politics instead of conveniently dying. Regardless, Ulfric had been sure they would not hear from or see that woman again.

Then his carefully laid plans had started to wobble when a courier had arrived in the Palace of Kings three days ago with short message from Lydia. "Diana lives," was all it said. Ulfric had sent a silent prayer to Talos that Lydia was discrete enough to not include that Diana was the Dragonborn in the message in case the courier had grown curious enough to read his missive.

It was inconvenient and dangerous for Diana to resurface now of all times. If only if she had held off for three more months. Maybe even only two! Skyrim would be liberated and it wouldn't matter about the truth of the Dragonborn then. Hell, Ulfric could probably even spin a tale to convince his kinsmen that Lydia was the true Dragonborn even if Diana openly challenged the claim. If that didn't work, there was more than one way to silence those who didn't know how to be quiet. Especially an obnoxiously loud Imperial Dragonborn.

Ulfric wanted to consult with Lydia before making any contingency plans. No doubt there were details that Ulfric would need to know and Lydia was competent enough to report to him directly about such an unexpected turn of events. Equally likely Lydia would have some questions of her own that Ulfric would have to soothe over. Ulfric wasn't worried; he still had the situation under control.

Then yesterday another courier arrived with even worse news. Hadvar, Lydia's second-in-command, had reported that Lydia had disappeared while fighting assassins on top of one of the towers. A dragon had swept down from the night sky and taken all of them away. Ulfric's shout of rage had been strong enough to invoke the thu'um; thunder had rattled the castle for an hour as Ulfric broke many of the decorations in his war room. The Dragonborn borne away by a dragon on the eve of Ulfric Stormcloak's victory. Years of careful planning ruined!

Once Ulfric had calmed down, he had decided that it was of little consequence. Lydia was a competent warrior. Either she had managed to survive the combined dragon and assassin attack and would make her way back to Windhelm and Ulfric's side, or the Nord was dead and her memory could still be used to rally the men. Regardless, the bulk of her usefulness had been achieved by acquiring the forts in Imperial command. With one major battle left, surely Ulfric would win it with his own reputation, honor and strength, and not rely on a fabrication.

"We should kill the jester," Galmar growled. At this angle, Ulfric's right hand man looked more animal than human with his bear skin stole pulled low over his face. The large, older man had never recovered from the brutal murder of his brother, Rolff. It was bad enough it had happened right here in Windhelm where the man should have been safe, but it had been clearly performed by the Dark Brotherhood.

"As much as I would like to, you know we cannot do that," Ulfric rumbled. He looked at the small figure capering around the throne room.

The creature had shown up at the Palace of Kings about an hour ago. Clad from head to toe in black and red motley and a porcelain mask, the right half pure white with the comedy smile and the left side obsidian black with the tragedy frown, it was impossible to tell anything about the jester including gender. The jester had shown a folded message to the guards, but when presented to Ulfric, he had slipped the message into a glove and started a foolish dance instead.

Ulfric had always heard the saying "Trouble sires three children," but he had not given it much mind until today. Three messengers in so many days and so far all of them bearing bad news. Ulfric was tempted to evict the jester purely on principle, but he was also intrigued. Diana had never shown any grace with the subtleties of politics, but she had a sharp enough mind to understand what she couldn't execute. Ulfric wished to interpret the message before allowing Galmar to stick his foot firmly up the jester's ass.

The jester himself was a message. Jesters were native to Cyrodiil and were part of the personal entourage of the Emperor. The jester was the only person in all of the country who could speak plainly to their ruler with no fear of repercussion. Or speak frankly to anyone in the court, for that matter. They might be named fools, but it was fools they made of courtiers who earned their ire. They wore no armor and bore no weapon except their velvet motleys and barbed tongues.

Ulfric remembered the jester who had visited the army's camp when he had been a soldier during the Great War. He had been a young man, newly appointed to his post, and strangely out of place with his laughter and jokes. Although the fool had teased the commanding officers mercilessly, he had been just as gentle with the tired foot soldiers by giving words of encouragement. What had been the man's name? Caesar, maybe?

There had been rumors of a jester seen before mysterious deaths attributed to the Dark Brotherhood. Ulfric recalled a story of a jester interrupting King Olaf's effigy burning three years ago during the Emperor's cousin's wedding. Last year when such an attempt had been made on Ulfric's life at Rorikstead, he had seen a jester then too. It was hard to tell from a distance, but Ulfric was certain that jester had been a male. Did the jester represent Ulfric's death or Diana's allegiance to the Empire? Possibly both.

"Why don't you tell us a story, jester?" Ulfric asked. The jester stopped his dance and faced Ulfric. He placed his gold curled gloved hands over where his mouth would be under the mask and shook his head before returning to capering. Was the creature mute or forbidden to speak? What would be the purpose of a jester who could not utter undesired truths? Definitely intriguing.

The grandfather clock rang the hour causing the jester to stop what he was doing and cock his head to the side. The small creature skipped to the base of Ulfric's throne and finally pulled the message from his gloved hand and presented it to the jarl. The piece of paper bore one word, "Soon," with the personal insignia of Diana; a stylized dragon curved into the shape of a crescent moon.

Ulfric crumpled the piece of paper in his hand angry. She dared to make threats to him in his own home? The arrogance of that woman knew no bounds. Before the jarl could give Galmar permission to evict the jester, a guard hailed, "The Dragonborn approaches!"

The jester danced backwards as Ulfric suddenly stood. "Is that so?" Ulfric asked smiling. "Then by all means give her entry and leave us." No one noticed the jester as he silently backed to the side doors of the hall and barred them.

The wide doors of the main entrance of the Palace of the Kings opened and in walked the Dragonborn. The Dragonborn looked resplendent in her shimmering dragon scale armor. With the helm's visor down and face bent forward, the face was obscured, but Ulfric wasn't fooled. He recognized that confident swagger. If Diana wished to pretend to be Lydia, she would have to do a better job of imitating the Nord woman's posture. While Lydia walked with the quiet, unassuming air of a bodyguard, Diana walked like she was royalty and everyone should acknowledge her presence.

As the dragon scale armored warrior entered the palace, Ulfric walked down from his own throne. "It looks like the prodigal has returned. I had thought you lost to us forever," he said pleasantly. Ulfric halted five feet from the figure. Galmar, ever vigilant, had moved into position to Ulfric's left to protect his lord's flank. "Why don't you remove your helm so we may converse face to face?"

The dragon scale figure shrugged and reached up to remove the helm. Before the helm had cleared the face, Ulfric breathed in and Shouted, "**FUS RO DAH," **sending his opponent flying through the air. The helm clattered to the ground. "Did you really think I wouldn't realize you were not Lydia?" Ulfric bragged.

The jarl, followed by Galmar, stomped to the fallen figure. The two of them pulled their weapons as they advanced. Ulfric paused, surprised by what he saw. The prone person wasn't Diana, but some red-haired Imperial man. The man looked up at Ulfric and laughed loudly.

"Actually, I was counting on it," a female voice said from behind Ulfric. Ulfric whirled around to see the jester rip off its porcelain mask to reveal the true Dragonborn. "**ZUN HAAL VIIK!"** The disarm Shout sent Ulfric's and Galmar's weapons flying away. Diana placed her fists on her hips in that arrogant pose he remembered from years ago. "I think that puts us on more equal grounds, don't you?"

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 16 First Seed 205 4E 5:00 PM<strong>

Gods, it was worth suffering under that damn porcelain mask to see the look of first utter shock and then complete rage on Ulfric's face when he realized how he had been tricked. I had gambled that Ulfric's curiosity and pride would keep him from unmasking me immediately when I entered the Palace of Kings. I love when I'm right.

Behind Ulfric and Galmar, Cicero kipped up to his feet in one smooth motion. It was a truly impressive action to perform in the dragon scale armor. I had feared that Ulfric's Shout might severely harm or even kill Cicero, but I should have known after years of suffering my temperamental Shouts, Cicero would be able to handle Ulfric's point blank Shout.

"On behalf of Elisif the Fair, I command you to surrender and stand fair trial in Solitude for your crimes against Skyrim and her people," I declared pointing an accusing finger at Ulfric.

"Foolish woman, I don't know where you've been these last years, but obviously you don't know that I am winning this war!" Ulfric barked a laugh before launching towards his fallen weapon. I ran forward and managed to kick his steel war axe away.

"Only because you stole my name, you hypocrite!" I yelled as I tried to stomp the larger Nord's hand. I cried out in pain when Ulfric dodged and I slammed my heel into the hard stone floor. The soft velvet boots provided no protection at all. "How do you fight in this?" I complained to Cicero.

The Keeper was wrestling Galmar for his two-handed iron battle axe. The Nord had forced Cicero to one knee. Instead of straining against the bigger man, Cicero rolled backwards and slammed his boot into Galmar's midriff before kicking the man over his head. As Galmar landed heavily, Cicero finished his roll so he was standing again. "Years of practice," Cicero smirked as he twirled the large weapon.

Before I could comment, Ulfric grabbed my ankle and pulled me down. As I landed on the ground, Ulfric swung me around and slammed me against the wall. "Don't ignore me, Dragonborn," Ulfric growled.

"I guess that means you're not going to surrender?" I snarked as I struggled to sit up. My chest hurt from the impact with the wall. "I keep trying to offer the easy option, but no one ever accepts."

"Maybe you need to make a better sales pitch, Imperial," Ulfric said as he tried to kick me in the face with his own iron boots. I leaned back in time so his foot sailed over my head. I could feel the force of his foot as it passed an inch from my face. "It's hard to take such an offer seriously from a fool."

Ulfric drew his breath to Shout. He had only the one trick, so it was easy enough to counter. We both Shouted at the same time, "**FUS RO DAH!"** The castle shook from the Voice-created thunder. When the Shouts collided, Ulfric and I both flew backwards from the force. I flew farther with my lighter mass and lack of heavy armor to hold me down. I tumbled to land on my feet as Ulfric skidded backwards.

Cicero swung the two-handed axe as Galmar charged him. Unused to the heavy weight, Cicero wasn't able to swing fast enough and Galmar easily stepped under the arc. The Nord grabbed the shaft of the weapon and used it to butt Cicero in the face knocking him down again. Galmar swung the axe up to use a downward attack to cleave Cicero in half, but Cicero kicked Galmar in the knee to throw off his attack. As Galmar reeled, Cicero rolled away so he was back to back with me.

Cicero quickly drew the two ebony daggers strapped to his side. We had not been able to have Cicero wear my bow into the Palace. Although we anticipated that Ulfric would know it was not Lydia coming to the Palace of Kings, it would not have been believable for the former housecarl to be wearing a bow, especially a daedric bow. Instead, Cicero handed me the Blade of Woe, Astrid's old blade. It had not been used in a long time and I felt it was time for it to drink again.

It felt good to have a weapon in hand, but the ebony daggers felt ridiculously small compared to the war axes our opponents were wielding again. The Keeper and I held defensive poses as Ulfric and Galmar circled us.

"What now, my Listener?" Cicero asked softly so only I could hear. He turned to grin widely at me. I could make out the beginning of a black eye from where Galmar had butted him with the axe.

"I hadn't thought that far," I said. "I had hoped they would just surrender." Cicero laughed as I mock shrugged.

"What is so funny, Dragonborn?" Ulfric asked suspiciously.

"It's funny that you have the gall to address me that way. Can't bring it in you to call me by my name?" I taunted. "Can't stand the thought of making the legend into just a woman by using a boring, normal name?"

"You did enough to ruin the legend," Ulfric snarled. "Instead of embracing your legacy, you hid yourself away in caves and bandit dens. You could have been someone great instead of a mere bounty hunter. People didn't see the child of prophecy; they just saw an indecisive, weak Imperial. Not that any of us should have expected or hoped for more."

"You accuse me of being a mere bounty hunter," I spat back, "but I was clearing barrows for dragon walls to further my learning of the thu'um. At least I didn't quit my training like some people. Did you really leave the Greybeards because you were too eager to fight for the Empire or were you afraid that you would fail to be good enough to learn more Words?"

Ulfric screamed with rage and charged the two of us with his axe. Cicero and I rolled out the way as the weapon came down. The strength of Ulfric's blow destroyed the stone tiles. Galmar continued his fight with Cicero as Ulfric turned his attention to me.

"Struck a nerve, did I?" I laughed. "I might not have chosen to be the Dragonborn, Stormcloak, but at least I finished my job. Alduin has been dead these three years and by my hand. Can you say the same for the faceless Empire that you rally against? Or the Thalmor, your true enemy, who you only strengthen by tearing Skyrim's resources apart with your petty whining?"

I danced backwards as Ulfric continued his flurry of assaults. I jumped up onto the bench around the long dining table and hopped onto the table's surface. As Ulfric slashed and stabbed, I danced among the candlesticks and plates left out for dinner.

"I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil! I fight for their wives and children, whose names I heard whispered in their last breath. I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing! I fight... because I must," Ulfric said. "What do you fight for? Money, fame, pride?"

I snorted. "Like I haven't heard that speech before. It's one of your favorite methods of converting eager soldiers. I can clearly recalling you saying those very same words as you stood so nobly on the steps of your throne." I had to keep Ulfric mad so he would make a mistake. "I don't doubt your sincerity, Ulfric; I just fear you want the story of heroism more than the reality of being wrong."

Ulfric halted his attacks and looked at me with the first hint of uncertainty I had ever seen on the man. This was my chance! As I lifted my dagger, I heard Cicero scream in pain. I turned and saw that Galmar had managed to score a hit on the Imperial. Blood was running down Cicero's right arm and his dagger had fallen from useless fingers. Galmar kicked Cicero in the chest knocking him down. As Cicero fell, Galmar raised his axe to finish the job.

I had to choose – Ulfric or Cicero.

As if there really was a choice.

"Sithis guide my strike," I prayed to the Dread Lord for the first time as I Shouted, "**WULD.**" I cleared the distance in seconds and my dagger sank into Galmar's unprotected back. The general grunted in pain, but couldn't move from the pain of my blade sinking into his kidney. I twisted the blade before roughly pulling it out.

As Galmar fell, Cicero fumbled his dagger with his off hand and slit the man's throat as he fell. Behind me, I could hear Ulfric cry out his friend's name, but I ignored him. I knelt by Cicero. "Are you okay?" I asked as I pressed my forehead to his.

"Cicero fears he may lose full use of his hand," Cicero lamented. He slowly flexed his fingers. "I might need you to help me masturbate in the next several months until I heal."

"Fool," I laughed nervously as I slapped his shoulder before helping him up. Cicero couldn't be hurt that badly if he was joking around.

"You bastards," Ulfric trembled with rage and sorrow as he readied his blade. "Who in Oblivion do you think you are?"

"I am Cicero – the Keeper, Fool of Hearts, and Laughter Incarnate," Cicero said grinning evilly.

"I am Hecate – the Listener, Fool of Fate, and Death Incarnate," I countered. I held my ebony dagger so it was pointing at Ulfric. "We are the Dark Brotherhood and you are our Black Sacrament."

"You truly have gone insane, Diana," Ulfric said lowly. "I'll be doing the world a favor killing you."

"Good luck trying," I said.

Cicero and I moved as one as we charged Ulfric. The man was ready for us and swung his axe forcing us to part, but we were faster in light armor and velvet motley. Cicero and I began our dance of death, striking Ulfric repeatedly with shallow cuts, punches, and kicks.

The jarl of Eastmarch tried his best to defeat us, but without Galmar to protect his flank, Ulfric never had a chance. If he pushed me away, Cicero would be inside his reach striking quickly and away before Ulfric could turn back. If Cicero was knocked back by a blow, I was there raining punches and kicks like furious drops of rain.

It would have been easier to just slit Ulfric's throat, but I really did want to take the man prisoner. Let him stand trial for his crimes. Let his beloved Skyrim see him for what he was instead of allowing Ulfric to become a martyr.

Ulfric fell to his knees unable to fend off our onslaught any longer. I placed my knee on his back and grabbed his chin with one hand while the other held the Blade of Woe under his chin. "Surrender," I whispered.

"So I can be another puppet for the Empire's amusement?" Ulfric laughed bitterly. "I think it would make a better song if the Dragonborn killed me." A large hand with an iron grip wrapped around my hand and with a jerk Ulfric ended his own life on my blade.

"Gods dammit!" I yelled. I swore to myself I would not explain my motives to my opponents in the future if they were going to keep dying on me.

"Another soul for Sithis," Cicero smirked. He had not particularly cared for my "take Ulfric alive" plan, but had supported it nonetheless. "Can we leave now?"

"Yes," I said. I grabbed my porcelain mask as Cicero retrieved the dragon scale helmet.

Hands entwined, the two of us threw open the front doors of the Palace of Kings and fled into the night.

* * *

><p><strong>Morndas 16 First Seed 205 4E 11:00 PM<strong>

I leaned back to enjoy the light spring breeze that had sprung up. The large stone felt cold on my bottom as I dangled my leg over a ledge. In my hands, I fiddled with the porcelain mask I had used for my disguise.

Cicero and I were at some remote hill nowhere near civilization. We had buried the dragon scale armor so no one would ever use it again without my permission. I had carefully memorized the spot in case I needed it again someday. Maybe I would use it for my own or I might feel generous and bequeath it to some inspiring hero. Who ever knew what the future held?

Cicero stepped out from the brush having changed back into his motley. The Keeper looked especially handsome tonight in the light of the twin moons. He smiled down to me and offered his hand to help me stand up.

"You did well tonight," I said.

"Cicero lives to serve," he murmured pleased at my praise. The jester smiled at me waiting to see what I would do next.

As I glanced at my smiling jester in the moonlight, I had an overwhelming urge to say something to please him. To show the extent of my affection. I nibbled on the edge of my mask as I thought of exactly what words to utter when it came to me.

Three little words.

The same three words Cicero thought of when he woke in the mornings and the three little words he dreamed of when he went to sleep at night. I had heard him say them to me time and time again. It would be the first time I would say them to my Keeper and I think it would please him.

I took Cicero's hand before leaning in close. My breath brushed against his ear as I whispered.

"Let's kill someone."

Our combined laughter filled the still night air as we ran off to do our Mother's bidding once again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** **That's the end of For the Future of Skyrim. I hope you all enjoyed the ending. I will be posting an epilogue under a separate story titled "For the Dark Brotherhood Forever." There is also a plan for a parallel story featuring Aventus from his point of view. **

**Thank you to all of my reviewers. I loved receiving your thoughts and comments.  
><strong>


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